


Hero Training

by Ashynarr



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:57:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 28,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashynarr/pseuds/Ashynarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a hero is more than just about beating the bad guys. It's also about teamwork, learning your strengths and weaknesses, and allowing others to help you up when you fall. It's about small choices having big effects, and taking responsibility for your actions. Ultimately, it's about making the right choice, even when facing your worst fears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some history is best left buried forever.

[1942,

Verta Military Complex,

Classified Location]

There was a flurry of activity inside the complex, the starch white lab coats of the scientists almost matching the halls they walked or ran through.

Dr. Johnson, well used to this, simply turned down the corridor once he left the elevator into the base, carrying several important documents in a folder under his arm as he navigated himself through the massive sprawl of a complex. The entire place was a testament to what the government dollar could buy given sufficient motivation, and even with the endless documents swearing him to secrecy Dr. Johnson felt humbled to work at the cutting edge of science here.

Several of the doors along his twisting path were open, revealing scientists from around the country, and in some cases the world, going over various formulas and piles of data sheets as they worked on their own projects, ranging from medical research to weapons development and everything in between. Before he had been recruited for his current project, he had been on one of those teams, studying the effects of chemicals on the human body. In retrospect, his expertise in the area was probably what had gotten him moved in the first place.

He turned down another corridor, this one completely bereft of any doors other than the one at the far end, which was guarded by the infamous Private Smith. Dr. Johnson shuddered lightly; he had never liked confronting the man, as he talked very little and overall gave the vibe of not being quite normal. There were rumors that he was in fact a Stark product, and anyone who confronted the soldier would be hard pressed to deny it.

Dr. Johnson stopped before the other man, pulling out his identification card and holding it out for the larger man to inspect. After cold blue eyes scanned over it, it was deemed legitimate, and Private Smith stepped to the side smoothly, silently granting access. The scientist quickly entered, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary.

Once inside, he pressed a button on the side, causing the elevator to shudder lightly as it descended further into the complex. When the doors opened, he was once again briefly struck by the difference in technology between here and up above.

Seeing as all of this was Howard Stark's pet project, it wasn't hard to guess why.

He made his way down the steps to the main floor, passing by chemists testing various balances of chemicals and biologists tinkering with formulas on a clear whiteboard. He knocked on a closed door, only opening it when the voice inside told him to enter.

"Dr. Reinstein, the data you wanted."

The man looked up from his papers, waving to him to hand it over. "Thank you; you can go back to what you were doing, Dr. ..."

"Johnson, sir."

"Right."

With that the other left, leaving Dr. Abraham Erskine alone with his work again. He opened the document, scanning through the sheets before throwing them down on the table with a frustrated sigh. His head came to rest in his hands, fingers rubbing at his forehead.

Another failed formula. It figured.

So engrossed in his thoughts, he failed to hear the door open and shut until the document was pulled out from under his elbow. Lifting his head showed Dr. Howard Stark, the primary funder and co-head of Project: Rebirth, scanning over the data, a light smirk on his face.

"Don't say anything."

"I told you doubling the reactants would backfire."

"The first trials showed a positive effect; what else were we supposed to do?"

Howard sat back in the chair, throwing the document back on the table. "You aren't going to get anywhere with this mix, and we need results soon or else some people will start to get upset."

They both knew who he was referring to. The military leaders who had the privilege of being 'in the know' were also adamant that they provide results and soon, as the war was only getting nastier outside of their isolated complex.

"Then what do you suggest?" Abraham asked, barely keeping himself from snapping at the other. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight and put the project even further behind.

Dr. Howard Stark smirked. Smirking was never a good sign, and Dr. Erskine was already beginning to worry on what this one meant. "I recently happened to come into the possession of a most interesting substance that I believe may be the key."

With that he was handed a small vial filled with a dark red liquid, which he only realized was blood after tilting it and watching it flow. "Is this a joke?"

"Not at all. I've already made some preliminary tests with it, and it's shown extreme promise. With this added to an adjusted version of one of our earlier formulas, it should provide all the benefits we hoped for and then some."

Abraham set the vial down, looking Howard Stark in the eye. "Where exactly did you get this?"

"That, my friend, is something I can't tell you, as my... provider, shall we say, has sworn me to secrecy."

"That's never stopped you before."

The other man shrugged. "He was very persuasive. I believe we have a formula to test?"

"Alright, but I still think the line we're following now has promise..."

The door shut behind them as they left the office, papers still strewn around the desk.

~0~0~

[2012]

The same room, seventy years later, was much dustier and darker, the place long ago abandoned. The top of the desk was empty of the papers that had once covered it, only grime hiding the solid oak underneath.

The door handle rattled; when the door refused to open it was rammed against once, then twice, before bursting open, revealing a soldier with a flashlight. Corporal Nelson swept the room, grimacing only slightly at the state of the place. From what he could tell this place had been state of the art in its day, if not beyond, but now it was just dust and old military secrets.

Once again, as he bent down to open the drawers of the desk, he wondered why General Ross had been so insistent on coming to this place. From what he could tell anything of vital importance had long been taken from here, sealed away in some forgotten corner of the CIA's archives with all the other national secrets.

The first two drawers had nothing in them, as expected, while the third had only an old forgotten stapler. Pulling it out, he set it on the desk, scanning the room for anything else of interest. The only other thing besides the desk and chairs was the bookshelves lining the back, which had probably once held swathes of important documents.

He leaned back against the desk, hands gripping the edge as he sighed again. Hopefully they were almost done here, and he could go back to his normal work of mission planning. A field agent he was not, and never would be if he could help it.

His index finger ran over a small indent, and without noticing he pressed in, making him jump when one of the bookcases moved slightly with a puff of dust. Standing up and heading over, he pressed his fingers to the now visible crack, forcing the rusty secret door open and causing an even greater upwelling of dust.

After coughing most of the dust out of his lungs, Corporal Nelson's flashlight once again came up to investigate the hidden corridor. Stepping forward carefully, he swung the light back and forth slowly as he progressed, only stopping when he reached another door. This one opened without the use of force, and he was able to step inside a lab that was, if possible, even more advanced than the one right outside the office.

The hand not holding the flashlight brought the radio up to his mouth, figuring this was important enough to warrant reporting in ahead of schedule. "General Ross? I found something in the office on the main floor. A hidden corridor of some type, ending in a lab. Whatever they were working on here looked pretty important, sir."

Within minutes he was joined by several others of his squad, the general leading them and waving for Nelson to lift the light again so he could look. "Good work, corporal, this was just what I was looking for. All of you, spread out and look for anything suspicious. Vials, documents, the works."

The group spread out, flashlights illuminating the room. Drawers were opened and closed, cabinets thoroughly inspected, and even the floor was carefully checked for hidden doors. Another soldier, across the room from the corporal, spoke up, drawing the attention of the room. "I found something!"

Tucked in the back corner had been another hidden room, this one much smaller and only containing a single cabinet in the back. The soldier who had discovered it entered, cautiously crossing the room and opening the cabinet, before grabbing whatever was inside and bringing it back.

General Ross held up the half-empty vial, inspecting it under light. He smirked, fingers closing around it, as he looked over the other in the room. "Men, I believe we've found our objective."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first few things you'll notice is that the first thing I focused on was the MacGuffin of the series, like in a movie, I introduced the bad guy instead of being all fancy and vague about it, and I decided to keep some headcanons and discard others based on how my thoughts have changed on the matter since I originally started the first version.
> 
> I emphasize again that the plot will be the same as I had planned originally, just with some changes as to how things come to pass. Also, I am going to do my best to write this like the novelization of a movie, so chapters won't be frequent, but they will be long. (I'm hoping maybe around five thousand or so words a chapter minimum? I won't be certain until I actually get to writing them and find a comfortable length.)
> 
> For those confused with my mental timeline, I basically have The Avengers set in late spring 2011, Iron Man 3 in early to mid-winter 2012/2013, and the majority of this story in mid to late spring 2013. Which means that yes, Tony has a new suit, and no does not have the arc reactor in his chest anymore. Also, this is apparently different than the 'official' timeline, but really that's not a huge deal in my books.


	2. Evaluation?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers assemble for something almost as threatening as alien invaders.

_Steve dived behind a wooden fence, chest heaving as he held his Springfield rifle close to his chest. His uniform was filthy from the previous battles he'd been in, with no chance to wash them, not that it was a priority now._

_Another soldier, in the same blue uniform as him, collapsed beside him in the relative safety of their resting spot. Steve offered his water flask to the younger man, smiling at the thanks he was given as the other took a long swig before handing it back._

" _What's you name?"_

" _Philip Smithson, sir."_

" _Where do you hail from?" Steve asked, taking a swig himself before closing the flask._

" _New York, sir." The boy replied. "Wanted to be of service to the country, so I joined up as soon as I could."_

_Steve kept his smile up, even though his heart wrenched at the knowledge that this war was going to change this young man in ways even he couldn't predict. What this war was doing to both sides was awful, pitting brother against brother endlessly, and for what? Ideology? Was everything he had fought for destined to fall apart when it had barely begun?_

_There were shouts from their fellow soldiers, and Steve glanced over his shoulder before looking back to the young man. "You ready, Philip?"_

_Philip lifted his rifle. "Yes, sir!"_

_Steve nodded. "Then let's get back to the fight. Come find me after this is done and we can chat some more over drinks."_

_Philip nodded, scrambling to his feet at the same time as Steve. They both peered over the fence, spying the gray uniforms on the far side of the battlefield. Philip lifted his gun, taking aim before pulling the trigger, getting knocked back slightly. At this distance the shot missed, but that didn't phase the boy, who reloaded before leaping over the fence to run towards a closer position._

_Steve prepped his own rifle, swinging out and taking aim, the trigger pressed as he made his way forward as well. His own shot barely missed, and in the moment it took to reload he saw one of the enemy soldiers take aim at him, their shot making the ground at his feet spray. His rifle came forward again, and this time the soldier went down, wounded in the hip._

_The cacophony of shots continued around him as he reloaded again. Soldiers from both sides were falling now, each body making him wince as it hit the ground. This wasn't right, it wasn't fair!_

_A familiar voice cried out to his side, and he turned to see the boy he'd been talking to not five minutes ago falling, gaping at the blood seeping from the gaping hole in his chest. As he collapsed, Steve ran over, placing a comforting hand on Philip's shoulder even as he quietly slipped away._

_Footsteps approached, and Steve looked up from where he was kneeling, past the gray uniform to the eerily familiar face, and those piercing brown eyes. The other man smirked, gun raised to point right at him._

" _Hello there, brother."_

~0~0~

Steve Rogers, known to the wider world by his alias of Captain America, shot up from his bed, chest heaving. As the sharpness of the dream faded, he rubbed at his eyes while going over what he could remember of it.

He'd had dreams of his time on the battlefield before – it was hard not to when one was a veteran of a World War. But this one had been very strange, not the least of which was because he knew for a fact he had never been part of the Civil War. The details had also been much more consistent and encompassing than could be entirely attributed to a random dream; both Philip and the strange Confederate soldier had seemed like real people, even away from the fogginess that accompanied most dreams.

 _Philip._  That had hit much closer to home that he'd care to admit, remembering another young man who'd died much too soon.

The most puzzling aspect, though, was the unnamed soldier. In the dream, right before he'd awoken, he'd felt a mixture of fear, anger, and  _sorrow_. His dreamself had known the other man, and had been called brother, even though Steve was an only child.

Well, dreams weren't exactly required to make sense. Despite that, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to all of this.

He startled as the voice of Tony Stark's AI came over the hidden intercom, still not quite used to having the nigh-omniscient JARVIS around at all times. "Good morning, Captain. My sensors indicate an elevated heart rate - is everything alright?"

Steve sighed. "Yeah, it was just a nightmare. Is Stark up yet?"

"He's in his lab at the moment, but will likely be up for breakfast later. Would you like me to inform him you've awoken?"

"No, it's alright," Steve responded, perhaps a bit quickly. "I'll just get myself some breakfast and check the news."

"Of course." With that JARVIS went quiet, and Steve heaved a sigh as he rolled over of bed and stretched, almost feeling his actual age for a minute.

Ever since he had moved - temporarily - into Stark Tower due to his old apartment being one of the casualties of a building fire, he'd found himself overwhelmed many a time by the sheer difference in lifestyle from what he was used to. Even when he'd been living on his own, he'd at least been able to decorate it as he pleased, giving himself an environment where he could pretend he wasn't stuck seventy years in the future.

Now, though, he was living in a world beyond even that outside the windows of the skyscraper he was in. He understood, somewhat, how most of the things worked, but it was still so strange seeing Stark working on virtual designs that were floating in midair, pulling and throwing away data so fast it made him wonder if the man even consciously processed most of it, or if his subconscious just stored it while the forebrain focused on something else.

For some reason, he wouldn't be entirely surprised, considering the elder Stark he'd once worked with was much the same.

Getting dressed with an efficiency only found in the military, he navigated his way through the halls to where the small kitchen on this floor resided. Not really in the mood to cook breakfast that morning, he instead stuck some bread into the toaster and turned the coffee machine on, passing the time by reading the daily newspaper he'd managed to convince Tony to buy for him.

(Tony had tried to convert him with the merits of electronic news, even pulling the 'save the trees' card on him, but Steve was infinitely more comfortable with something he could hold and turn the pages of.)

There was little interesting news today, just some more on the wars overseas, the issues within the country, and whatever was going on in modern media. He'd just given up on it, choosing to focus on his coffee instead, when Tony strolled in, covered in machine oil smudges from another sleepless night in his workshop several floors above.

Speaking of which, said floor also had its own kitchen, so why was Tony all the way down here when the two had only recently defrosted to each other?

The greeting he got from Stark as the man slumped down into the other chair, a cup of coffee in hand - "Hey there, captain." - was also strange, lacking the usual snarky bite Steve had gotten used to.

"Is… something wrong?" Steve asked, concerned. As different as their opinions on most things were, they were still fellow Avengers and Americans.

"Hmm?" Stark asked through the toast hanging from his lips, looking up from the table to blink weary eyes at him. "Nah, just a bit tired. I'm pretty much running on adrenaline and five cups of coffee right now, but another should keep me up long enough to finish what I'm working on. Figured since JARVIS said you were up, I'd just steal some of your coffee instead of making my own."

The captain shook his head. "Some rest would probably be better for you right now - you look like you haven't slept in days."

Stark shook his head. "Nah, hasn't been that long, has it JARVIS?"

"You have been awake for approximately thirty hours. At least a short nap would be advised before continuing on your current project, as-"

The suggestion was waved off. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine, don't worry. I've done more on less sleep plenty of times, and I'm almost done, anyways."

"Of course, sir."

Steve shook his head at how sarcastic the AI could sound sometimes, even when maintaining the same neutral tone. Tony seemed to have noticed it as well, because he glared at a wall briefly while taking another long gulp of his drink.

It wasn't even a minute later when JARVIS spoke up again. "Incoming call from SHIELD, sir - Director Fury is on the line."

Steve and Stark exchanged looks. There hadn't been any recent alien attacks or international threats in the news recently, and SHIELD was fairly content to leave them be otherwise, so why the sudden call?

"Well, let's see what he wants." Tony waved his hand, and a floating screen appeared, the calm visage of Nick Fury within.

"Stark. Captain." He greeted simply.

"Director." Steve replied, at the same time Stark replied with a more cheery "Hey there Nick."

"How soon can the two of you come in for an evaluation?"

Both men blinked, exchanging a glance.

"Evaluation for what?" Stark asked.

"Some of the people I answer to have expressed concerns about your team's ability to work together outside of combat situations."

Stark snorted into his cup as Steve's eyebrow rose in surprise. "A teamwork exercise? You're pulling our legs, aren't you? Bit early for April Fools, though."

"Believe me, Stark, I wish I was joking, but the powers that be have overridden me in this case. They're sending someone in this weekend to evaluate you, so be prepared to spend a few days playing nice with each other. I'm trusting you can do that."

"Of course we can." Stark answered cheekily, earning flat glares from Steve and Fury.

"Are Dr. Banner and Thor going to be there as well?" Steve asked, turning back to the screen.

"Dr. Banner is being retrieved from his current location by a private jet, but as of now we have been unable to get in contact with Thor. The evaluation is continuing under the assumption that we will not have him available for the foreseeable future."

Stark sighed wistfully. "And here I was hoping to see someone try to talk down to Point Break. Oh well, there's always another time."

"Don't be late." With that the call was cut, and Stark sat back, finishing his cup off with a sigh. "Well, so much for our self-imposed vacations."

Steve couldn't help but agree.

~0~0~

[Over the Atlantic,

237 miles from New York]

Dr. Bruce Banner, leading mind in the field of gamma radiation research and unwilling test subject to its effects, was nervous. However, the only sign he was anything other than bored was the rhythmic tapping of his finger on the armrest of his seat as he stared out the window.

The Other Guy was staying quiet despite his tumultuous feelings, which Bruce was extremely thankful for. Small spaces weren't always a problem, but sometimes they could be, and he didn't want to hurt any of the people on the plane who were only following orders and had even been very polite and informative, considering who they worked for.

Still, he'd almost refused, because he'd just settled into his new clinic with the knowledge that SHIELD had promised to keep the military far away from him; a promise that had been borne out in the months without even a whiff of the good general or his cronies within the country. Ultimately, he'd decided that the request for the evaluation was harmless enough to take a week or so off to get over with. Fury had apparently even promised it would get him a bit more protection if he could prove himself capable of passing whatever tests were thrown at them.

That, and the knowledge that Thor would not be there, determined that it was safe enough to go. (The Big Guy was still holding a bit of a grudge, due to the fact that that hammer had  _hurt_. Thankfully such artefacts - and beings - were few and far between on Earth).

Now, somewhere over the Atlantic and inbound on the largest city in the United States, he was second guessing his decision. Sure, he likely would have been dragged in anyways, and would have likely done more than a bit of damage along the way, but for once he just wanted some peace and quiet without the universe forcing him back into potentially dangerous situations.

(A small part of him, though, wondered if he could have done something to help Tony, or Steve, or even Clint, who had all gotten into yet more trouble while he was far away from the media's reach and thus ignorant of the going-ons in the rest of the world.

The point was moot now, of course, but still.)

His finger stopped tapping abruptly, his mind alerting him to someone's presence the moment before he heard the friendly voice of the attendant behind him. "Dr. Banner, would you like something to drink?"

Bruce turned to her, attempting a weak smile. "Just some water, thanks."

She nodded and left, leaving him to slump back in the chair. People who knew what he was always left him on edge, because he couldn't be sure about what they really thought of him. SHIELD may not necessarily be afraid of him, but they were certainly leery, and he had no doubts that their secret projects had in no way stopped being developed just because the Tesseract was gone.

To be honest, he was more than a bit worried they might end up turning on him for alternatives.

The attendant returned with his water, then left, retuning the private cabin to silence and his own thoughts. Sighing, he turned back to the electronic report in his hands, which had details on everything he'd missed since he'd gone underground. He'd already read through most of it during the earlier parts of the flight, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

The nervous tapping of his finger returned, although this time it took him a minute to figure out what it was, instead flipping through the profiles of people he knew until he suddenly stopped, finger hovering over the flip button as the grim visage of General Thaddeus Ross almost seemed to glare up at him from the screen.

SHIELD had told him that the general had been occupied with a wild goose chase for the past two years, looking through old records and archives for the elusive trails of Project: Rebirth. Seeing as he had yet to report any success to his superiors, and had for the most part been quiet and staying out of trouble, SHIELD had chosen to leave him alone with only a minor watch to keep tabs on any sudden movements.

Bruce leaned back in the seat, looking at nothing. He should be happy the man wasn't obsessing over him anymore, but the brief report only served to make him edgy. He didn't like how easily SHIELD just shrugged off the man's search as nothing, although they could just be keeping quiet for other reasons. He also didn't like the fact that the man had apparently not moved bases in nearly a year, as there was no reason for him to do so unless he believed he was close to something…

...or had found something, and was keeping quiet about it until he could unleash it fully.

He shivered in his seat, the idea making him even more nervous; it reached the point where The Other Guy even began to stir, his first alert the muffled inquiry as to the threat. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on calming himself until the feeling went away.

He couldn't let himself get worked up over what may be nothing. No matter what his gut feeling, he had to trust that SHIELD would have put more emphasis on keeping track of the man if he had found something that could end up a threat to national or international security. They were practically omniscient like that, although logically he knew they probably had many limits they merely hid well.

Still, if there was something big happening, SHIELD would know and take steps to deal with it, right?

Right. Of course. It was their job, after all.

All of this self-reassurance failed to keep him from looking back down at the screen, where the electronic visage had seemingly transformed from a glare to a near-victorious smirk, despite the image not changing a pixel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen Thor 2, and once again I am baffled by the difference in strength of Thor in the Avengers and Thor in his own films. Same with Loki – where was all that seamless shapeshifting in the movie? You could've easily taken over! Ah well, I guess all it means is that I can't bring Thor into this story this time around, since the guy's sort of busy with dealing with the other realms. Oh well. It'll make it somewhat easier for Al to kick butt, at least!
> 
> I looked up several 'official' timelines, and since none of them agree I ended up making a small change, that being when the Battle of New York happened relative to everything else. Basically this story is set two years after Avengers, four months after Iron Man 3, and about two months before the events of Thor 2. That would make the Mandarin bombings occur a year earlier than they did in 'canon'... where was Steve for those, anyways?
> 
> I smell an opportunity, especially since The Winter Soldier isn't out yet to contradict me... Let's just say Winter Soldier runs parallel to Iron Man 3, okay? Okay. If/when I go to see that movie, I'll see if I can incorporate it as well.


	3. Mission Improbable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's just your average American... mostly.

[U.N. Building,

New York City]

The United Nation Headquarters, located in the midst of the United State's largest city, is an impressive complex for being over sixty years old. Each of its four buildings are distinct and serve specific purposes, all geared towards the goal of maintaining and managing the world's ever increasing peacefulness. Even though it lies on US soil, it enjoys international territory status and thus is not subject to the laws of the US but for those of the surrounding region, for the purposes of safety.

Within the walls of these buildings reside four official councils: The General Assembly, the largest and most well known, which meets to discuss world issues and projects requiring international cooperation; The Economic and Social Council, which works on economic and social issues throughout the world and strives for universal human rights; The Trusteeship Council, formally suspended twenty years before once its duty of managing territories and colonies until they reached self-dependence was completed; and the Security Council, whose duty is to the continuing maintenance of world peace.

However, what few know is that there is a fifth council within the complex - the World Conference. Even fewer would know where they meet, when, or why.

If anyone were to walk past one particular meeting room within the Conference Building on the second Thursday of any particular month, they might be able to hear voices on the other side of the door. If they were so inclined as to take a peek inside, they'd see many young men and women from across the world inside, either discussing world issues or else fighting over some perceived slight.

None of these people would seem old enough to be politicians, and their conduct was certainly less than the mature dispositions one would expect when concerning something as important as world relations. Even stranger would be their use of country names to address each other, although one could easily assume, based on where they were directed, that they were codenames for the respective seated members for ease of understanding.

Fortunately, the entire wing of the building that this secret meeting takes place in is closed off from traffic until the council members have finished their work for the month. This was probably for the best, as seen on this particularly warm spring morning.

Alfred F. Jones, the current (and incidentally only) chairman of the American seat, stood before the Conference, beaming widely at the stunned silence of the rest of the room. Such silences rarely ended well, but while they were happening they were a moment of pride for the young American man whose primary entertainment during the monthly meeting was such moments.

Well, along with the following chaos, but that was a given considering.

The first one to snap out of it, figuratively and literally, was none other than Arthur Kirkland, chairman for both England individually and the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland as a whole. "What in the bloody hell possessed you to think that that was an idea even worthy of consideration?"

Alfred grinned widely. "Dude, it's a perfect plan! We get rid of all the garbage and we build a super cool robot that will clean it all up and defend us from aliens if they ever attack!"

Kiku Honda, the Japanese chairman, raised his hand. "I agree with America-san."

Alfred knew it was unlikely that Kiku actually did, but they both knew it was a great way to rile up the rest of the world even more. Ah, what would he do without a bro like Kiku to sow a little chaos here and there?

Arthur twirled to face Kiku, eyes twitching. "Don't just blindly agree with that idiot, Japan!"

"Honestly, why are we even discussing this?" Francis Bonnefoy, the French seat, complained with a dramatic sigh. "We clearly aren't going to get anywhere if our best suggestion for dealing with the trash issue is coming from America of all Nations."

"Hey," Alfred complained. "You're just jealous my plans are cooler than anything you could come up with!"

"Of course, America, whatever you say." Francis drawled, clearly not meaning a word of it. "Anyways, I feel a much more important issue to discuss right now is the economy."

There was a collective groan from the room at that statement. "C'mon dude, we talk about that  _every_  meeting; can't we talk about something different, like space travel? I mean I have cool news for that-"

"It's an important issue that we  _should_  be dealing with." Ludwig Beilschmidt, the German seat, stated. "If we resist the urge to start our usual pointless fingerpointing at each other, we can probably make some progress before the lunch break today."

There was a collective shuffling of papers as people switched papers, then a short moment of silence as people waited for the inevitable to begin.

Yao Wang, the Chinese seat, did not disappoint. "America, when were you planning on working on your debt issue? It's getting fairly high, if you've even bothered paying attention…"

"Look, I'm working on it at home right now, yeah?" Alfred replied, frowning. "I can't just make money out of thin air, and I have a lot of issues I need to fix at home before I can start paying you back."

"Well, if you didn't insist on such short-sighted business plans to cut costs, you probably wouldn't be in this mess." Arthur muttered from his seat, earning a scoff from Francis.

"Like you're much better? Shall I point out some of the cost-saving measures you've taken lately that have spectacularly backfired?"

"Why you-"

The two proceeded to get into an intense argument, only bolstered by the encouraging cheers of the others in the room. It was quickly broken up by an annoyed Ludwig, much to everyone's disappointment. The discussion of the economic state following was much calmer, and some semblance of progress started to take off.

Then Alfred's phone rang. Ignoring the looks from the others, he grabbed his phone out of his jacket's pocket and brought it to his ear without looking. "Alfred F. Jones here, 'sup?"

"America, you're needed for a mission briefing immediately."

A flicker of surprise and seriousness flickered across his face before he slapped on his cheerful nonchalant mask. "Right, I'll be right there!"

He lowered the phone a bit to address the rest of the room. "Hey guys, my boss needs me for something important, so I'll catch up on stuff later, alright? Canada, keep notes for me!"

The Canadian seat, Matthew Williams, blinked at the sudden address directed at him. "Alright-"

Alfred was already out the door, his mask dropping as he brought the phone back up to his ears. "I was in the middle of a world meeting; couldn't this have waited? Now I'm gonna have to do damage control in case they actually try to look into this."

"Rest assured, we've already set up an alibi for you. Just get to the briefing room as soon as you can."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way right now." The call ended; he shoved the phone back into his pocket and groaned as he made a turn into an open elevator. Grumbling under his breath, he pressed several floor buttons in a specific sequence, stepping back to lean against the wall while the elevator descended down past the official levels.

'What in the world do they need me for?' Alfred wondered, finger tapping impatiently against the elevator wall. 'Don't they have their own organization for this sort of stuff?'

'Unless,' his mind supplied suddenly, 'it's not something a regular human can handle.'

There were very rare cases where a situation was simply too dangerous for even their best people to handle; that was where he came in. Between his immortality, enhanced regeneration, and extreme strength and fighting capabilities, he was the Council's ace in the hole.

When he'd first learned of the secret organization, he'd been shocked, but now it was simply another of his many secrets he kept for national and global security reasons. Sometimes he wondered how the others would react if he told them, but common sense and previous experience told him it probably wouldn't be good.

The doors opened, and with a sigh Alfred stood up straight, making his way through the halls with purpose and ignoring the people passing around him. Once he made it to the right doorway, he pressed his hand to the scanner next to it, quickly stepping through the door once it opened and stepping up to the center platform while it sealed behind him.

Settling into a ready military stance, he patiently waited the three seconds it would take for the system to inform the Council he was present and to bring up the video stream on the most secure channels devised by humanity.

"You needed me?" Alfred asked once the faces of the Council appeared on the screens before him.

"We know you were in the middle of a meeting, but we feel the missions about to be assigned to you justify pulling you from it early."

"I figured that much- wait, mission _s_? As in plural?"

"Your official mission, as far as SHIELD is concerned, will be a simple evaluation."

Alfred frowned. "Evaluation for who?"

"A private team under the command of Director Fury codenamed-"

"-the Avengers?" There was a tone of incredulity. "Seriously?"

"We feel that Director Fury has put too much stock into their full capabilities; your job will be to act as an outside tester and give us a complete assessment into their capabilities and mindsets, including that of the Director. We want to be certain none of them have a chance of going rogue and causing issues."

Alfred laughed. "Are you sure I'm the best one for that? You know how I feel about the program."

"That was brought into consideration before we decided to give you the mission. Despite any personal feelings you may have, you are also more than capable of ignoring them as needed."

"Alright, official mission is dealing with the Avengers. What's my unofficial mission?"

"There's been a breach of security in some of our higher-level servers."

Alfred's amusement was washed away in an instant. "What? Who?"

"We don't know."

"And you need me to find out who."

"The breach occurred five hours ago; it was only recently traced to the main SHIELD headquarters."

"An inside job?" Alfred's brows furrowed.

"That's for you to find out."

"Got it." Alfred paused, a question nuding at the back of his mind. "One question; who was originally assigned to the evaluation mission?"

There was a brief pause, which meant he'd guessed right and caught them by surprise. "That's unnecessary information; the person in question has been informed of the change."

"Alright, I'll be at HQ tomorrow morning for the evaluation."

"Good luck, America."

The call ended, and he slumped in place with a sigh. God, he didn't like dealing with the Council, even if they had only the best intentions in mind. But at least one good thing was coming out of this, he realized with a smile.

"I get to meet the Avengers in person! Fuck yeah!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I hope the first part wasn't too boring, but I felt it added something. IDK. It seems like every Hetalia fic introduces the Nations through a world meeting, and how could I do something so silly as to break tradition?
> 
> So yeah, hoped you liked this chapter, despite it being a bit shorter than I'd hoped. Next one should be the beginning of the evaluation and such if I don't decide to do something else instead.


	4. Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the letter of the law by not following the spirit of it? Yeah, that's just how they roll around here.

Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD and, unbeknownst to most, a veteran of the Second World War, was not happy.

This was a fairly common state of affairs for him when he was stuck in his office with paperwork - even as highly ranked as he was, the bureaucracy still had its hold - but this time, it wasn't caused by the seemingly endless stream of documents that had to be triple checked to make sure nothing that wasn't supposed to be in there slipped by. No, this time it was one of the rare bad moods caused by his superiors, otherwise known as the World Security Council.

It sometimes baffled him that even though he'd held this position for more than a decade - had been hand-chosen by one of the council members to take his place as director! - they still refused to trust his judgement when it came to matters of national and international security. The fact that he was older than all of them seemed to hardly phase them either, making them think that ideas like nuking the largest city in North America was a  _grand_  idea.

And now this. He rubbed at his forehead, shoving the documents he'd been glaring a hole into away from him. What were they trying to accomplish with this so-called 'evaluation'? All of the respective members had already undergone unwitting psyche and physical exams, and that data had been made completely available to the council. Did they believe the data falsified?

There was something wrong with this whole scenario, and he didn't like not knowing what it was.

"Director Fury, the evaluator is here. Should I send him up?"

He sighed, pressing a button on the phone to reply. "Go ahead."

As he gathered up the documents on his desk, he briefly wondered who the council had sent. They had quite a few contacts outside of SHIELD that they kept secret, which as a former espionage veteran of the Cold War he could understand and appreciate, but at the same time left him wary of the unknown factors that he ended up having to deal with.

If there was one thing he didn't like, it was knowing he didn't know something.

The door opened, prompting Fury to look up only to stop dead at the very familiar face closing the door behind him. "You-"

"What, not happy to see me?" Alfred grinned.

" _America._ "

"It's Alfred while I'm on the job."

" _Alfred._ " The director amended without missing a beat. "I assume the Council has a good reason to send you of all people."

The Nation waved his hand. "They felt I'd be the least biased about the Avengers program, considering what I usually have to do."

"Right," Fury replied flatly. "What's the real reason they sent you?"

Alfred tilted back slightly, unaffected by the other's demanding tone. "That  _is_  the official reason, as far as you or anyone else here at HQ need to know."

"They do realize Stark is going to try and get information on you, don't they?" It wasn't a detail likely to be overlooked, but still necessary none the less.

"A fake profile's already been set up in the SHIELD database under heavy security for him to find; it has enough on me to hopefully satisfy him long enough for me to finish my job here."

Something to look at later, then.

"And the physical examination?" A raised eyebrow.

Alfred grinned again. "I don't need to use my own strength to test them."

Fury leaned back in his chair. "The Council's taking a big risk sending someone like you."

"They've taken bigger; the safety of the world is more important than any one part of it." Well, that wasn't an obvious reference to something at all, considering the brief flash of anger the Director saw flash across the Nation's expression before returning to its usual friendly continence.

There was a brief moment of silence. "I don't like this."

"I think they know that already." Alfred laughed quietly. "For what it's worth, I think they're being a bit paranoid, not that I can blame them at the moment."

Fury frowned, trying to find the hidden message in those words. Alfred just smiled, turning towards the door. "The others just got here; I think it's about time for me to get started before they get too antsy. I'll stop by again later for your official evaluation."

He stopped, hand on the handle, turning back to the Director. "...by the way, have you been having any issues lately with the serum?"

That was a strange thing to bring up. "It's still stable, if that's what you're asking."

Alfred sighed. "Good, that's- yeah."

The Director raised an eyebrow again. "Is there a reason it wouldn't be?"

"No, no, I just-" The Nation shrugged. "I 'unno, just a weird feeling, I guess. Anyways, I'm gonna get going. Have fun with your paperwork and all that. Oh, hey Natasha!"

Indeed, the former Russian spy turned SHIELD agent had just rounded the corner from the hallway, surprise flashing across her face.

"Alfred, what brings you by?"

"I'm the evaluator the Council sent." Her glance flickered towards Fury at the reply. "I'll chat with you later - I need to check in on the others first and introduce myself."

With that the Nation left, whistling to himself as he disappeared down the halls. Natasha shook her head, entering Fury's office and shutting the door behind herself.

"So, America, huh?" The unvoiced  _Did you know this?_  was obvious in her tone.

"The Council's taking a huge risk with him." Fury sighed, rubbing at his forehead.

"He can take care of himself," She replied, taking a seat opposite him. "He's been at this for longer than any of us have."

"I know that. It's Stark I don't trust."

Natasha huffed in amusement. "You don't think whatever file they made up for him will be enough?"

"If anything, he'll be more curious. And I don't trust him to keep it to himself should he ever find out the truth."

"If anyone would realize what chaos that would cause, it'd be him. He might be arrogant, but he's not stupid."

"We don't know that, though. He could think the risk is worth it."

"I don't think so, sir." She shrugged at his look. "I've had a chance to talk to him; he's more likely to keep it secret so that he can use it as leverage."

That… was actually true, especially considering that was what his father did. "That might be the case, but there's no reason to take the chance."

"Sir?"

Fury was silent for a moment. "America implied that the Council was worried about something; if it was just about the evaluation they could have sent anyone and kept any risk of his discovery out of the equation."

"So why did they send him, then?" She picked up on the train of thought, frowning.

Natasha truly was his best sounding board and agent. Then again, they were both espionage veterans, so they had a quiet understanding of what did and didn't leave their private conversations.

"Keep an eye out for anyone accessing his files or lingering too long around him. The Council might not trust me, but that doesn't mean I can't find out why they need him here without going through them first."

"Yes, sir." Natasha rose from her seat gracefully.

"I'm leaving the details to your judgement." He swiveled his chair to face the back wall as she left, gazing at the currently blank monitor on it while allowing himself to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… yeah, I sat down and was about to write this chapter out, then I got thinking about where I wanted this story to go. And realized I didn't like the original path. So I sort of had to carve out a new path that I feel fits much better, despite it now not following the original storyline I had planned.
> 
> The ending will be pretty much the same, and some plot points survived, but otherwise it's going to be going in a new direction. So yeah, sorry for the wait! Ahaha… school's been a pain too, so there's that. (I'll try to get a second update out this month to make up so don't be too angry with me!)
> 
> Anyways, the only important thing to note right now: No fight scene between Avengers & Alfred… at this point, anyways. It doesn't really make sense in this context, and I can accomplish everything I need to to progress the story without it. Sorry! There will be epic fight scenes later on to make up for it.


	5. Meeting Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did you seriously expect Alfred F. Jones to not be an Avengers fanboy?

_Award winning smile? Check._

_Crisp sophisticated suit? Check._

_Golden wheat hair and midwestern sky eyes? Double check._

_Texas in clean, slightly bent shape? Check._

_Two hundred pounds of all-American awesome?_  Alfred grinned to himself in the mirror.

_Checkeruno._

Normally he wouldn't bother with this sort of look over of himself - he wasn't that self-absorbed! - but it wasn't every day you met  _the_  heroes who had saved the world from invading aliens and promptly become  _the_  coolest thing in the developed world.

God, the Avengers were awesome.

Too bad they had to work for some government organization. The smile slipped a bit. It wasn't their fault that people had little reason to trust the government, and they seemed so removed from it most of the time that it hardly mattered to the general population.

He shook his head, putting his grin back in place. It didn't matter that he was meeting them on official SHIELD business instead of as a normal citizen on the streets; he was still meeting the Avengers, and it was gonna totally be worth it!

Humming cheerfully to himself, he left the bathroom he'd ducked into for his brief panic of 'shit-do-I-look-okay' and continued his trek to the break room, where he had been told the others were waiting for his arrival. If there was a spring in his step, none of the people he passed bothered to point it out to him.

He stopped right outside the room, straightening himself out and putting his game face on. He was supposed to be professional. Yeah, he could totes do that, no problemo, no fanboying over the heroes of New York at all, no sir.

(Okay, maybe a little. Just a little, though.)

He settled more firmly into the official persona as he opened the door, although a small friendly grin was still in place. Whatever conversation had been taking place prior to his entering came to a halt, the four in the room turning to look at him.

"Hey, why didn't you tell us you had a long lost twin, Captain?" Tony Stark laughed, looking between Steve and Alfred.

"I think you would have known before now if I actually had one." Steve replied casually.

"Sorry, I already have a twin," Alfred held back a wider grin. "He only gets lost some of the time."

"Sounds like a fun guy. So you're the examiner we've been waiting for?" Tony offered a hand, which Alfred took easily.

"Yep; Agent Jones, but you guys can just call me Alfred. I already know who all of you guys are, so we can get straight to the point." He straightened himself, putting on a more serious face. "Due to some recent concerns from the World Council, everyone involved directly in the Avengers program is to undergo both physical and mental evaluations in order to ascertain that none of the people involved are or may be potential threats to national or international security."

Alfred wanted to grimace with the group, but orders were orders.

"And what will the Council do if we don't pass their tests?" Dr. Banner tapped his fingers against the table erratically.

"I don't know," he admitted. "The Council will probably make that decision once they have all the information from the tests."

"So in other words they've already made their decision and they just want to make it look neat before they lock us up until they need us." Tony commented; Alfred noted the way Bruce's hands briefly clenched tight but said nothing about it.

"Actually, they're in favor of keeping the program as is, if only because they'd rather know you're on their side. They don't exactly want a bunch of vigilantes running around where they can't keep an eye on them."

The billionaire shrugged, leaning back against the counter. "Makes sense, I guess. Lead on, MacDuff, to whatever tests you have for us first."

Alfred huffed lightly, amused. "You'll all be called in for the week for the psych evals first, then afterwards you'll do some sparring with each other, just to get a general idea of what you guys can do."

"Sounds like what I had to go through in basic," Steve mused.

"Bet it'll be all nostalgic for you then, capt," Tony added, grinning. "Maybe he'll even set up an obstacle course just for you to run through."

Bruce was frowning. "I'm… not sure if I can control the Other Guy enough to bring him out for a 'friendly spar'."

"We'll find a place where he can't do too much damage if things get out of control," Alfred promised. "I'll see if the Director has a place that could work, but if not, I have a few places that'll be out of the way."

The scientist nodded, still looking wary but satisfied with the answer for now.

"Anything else?"

"I think we're good for now." Steve answered, cutting off whatever comment Tony was going to make.

"Alright then, I'll go talk to the director about all of this and we should be able to get started tomorrow or the day after that. I should be around after that, so if you have questions you can come talk to me."

Alfred managed to make it about a dozen feet down the corridor before he stopped to fistpump, muttering a 'hell yeah' under his breath so that he didn't alert the group he'd just left, who were even now discussing exactly what all this meant.

"Everything went well, then?" An amused voice asked.

"Totally." He grinned at Natasha, who chuckled quietly. "Meeting them in person was awesome."

"They're definitely interesting to work with, especially Steve."

"Hey, that's right, you do missions with him a lot. What's that like?"

"He's noble to a fault. Never notices when I work on my private missions alongside the official one he's leading." She tapped her finger against an arm. "Sort of like you, if you actually acted your age."

"Hey!" Alfred pouted. "I can totes be mature when I need to!"

"Trust me, I know." She pushed herself off the wall. "You know, we haven't actually had a chance to chat for a while; we should do that while you're here."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Alfred grinned apologetically. "I can't right now, though - I have to talk to the Director again about the details of all this before I have free time. Maybe an early dinner?"

Natasha smiled, understanding exactly what was being offered. "Sounds good to me. See you in an hour, then?"

"Hour and a half; we need a sparring ring that will keep the Hulk from doing too much damage."

"There should be one on one of the underground floors," She frowned in thought. "I've never used it, but it should be good enough to handle the Hulk as long as he doesn't get too angry."

"Sweet, that's one problem down. Still need to ask permission to use it, probably, but other than that-" Alfred grinned, patting her on the back. "You should wear something nice; I feel like splurging a bit tonight."

"Not McDonald's?" She asked with a laugh.

"One time, and you never hear the end of it," Alfred groaned, placing a hand to his forehead.

Natasha shook her head, smiling. "I'll see you soon, then, wonderboy." With that she turned and left, Alfred smiling wryly after her.

"See ya." He shook his head, turning back to his original path to Fury's office.

He honestly liked Natasha, and not just because she was fun to talk to. She'd known who, and what, he was from even before they'd met - a side effect of her job and being the personal spy of Russia during the later part of the Cold War - but she didn't treat him differently because of it. Sure she'd managed to sneak her way into his white house office (and, he suspected, his colonial home) more than once to gather information, but that was a while ago, and she'd long switched sides, so he hardly minded.

Not to mention it was nice to be able to talk to someone about being - well, America - that wasn't one of the other Nations. It wasn't to say Mattie wasn't a great person to vent to and all, but sometimes he had to vent about Mattie too, and, well, it wasn't like there were many other Nations willing to put up with it.

(...maybe Toris, but the guy had his own things to deal with over in Europe, so Alfred felt bad about bugging him too often, even if the guy was too kind to say no to him most of the time.)

He stopped, looking behind him, seeing nothing but a few other agents going about their business. The feeling of something watching him had already passed, making him shake his head and return to his walk. Man, now the Council had  _him_  paranoid, and he'd just started.

Hopefully he could give Natasha just enough info to tip her off and get her help in this, because if he was gonna annoy the Very Important People by indirectly informing people of his mission he was gonna make damn sure it was at least the right people to solve this case before it got worse.

Idly, a hand rose to his middle, scratching at an old faded scar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On second thought, I did sort of mention a potential fight scene, so there might yet be Alfred vs Avengers. Haven't decided yet, though - might need to write out both to see what fits. Also, I realized I could make the upcoming events just about parallel in the timeline with Thor 2 (which is clearly why the Avengers weren't there to help Thor deal with the Dark Elves.)
> 
> Also, just recently saw Captain America 2! Wow, was it awesome! For those of you who didn't see my notes, I was debating what to do after seeing it, and decided that I will ignore the movie and keep going along with this plot as it is. So the movie could be in the future, it could be AU, I don't know, but it's not my concern anymore.
> 
> I suppose I can add in the good Captain's abilities and the fact that he's participating in SHIELD missions with Natasha, though. Those wouldn't be terrible to add.


	6. Tony Has a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's just hope this one doesn't end as poorly as his last couple almost did.

Tony had a plan.

Alright, he always had a plan really; several depending on the situation. This particular plan, however, was strictly in regards to the so-called 'evaluation' he was supposed to be going to soon. More accurately, it was specifically targeted at that Agent Jones guy.

Sure, Jones might've been friendly enough, but he was a government type, which ultimately meant that his best interests and Tony's best interests did not intersect. In addition, the guy's file read just a bit too neatly, like someone had made sure the file said 'there is nothing of interest about this guy, we promise.' That, to Tony, always meant there was something of great interest being kept under guard, and who was he to deny the challenge put before him?

The first step of his plan was simple. Show up just the slightest bit late - not enough to look purposeful, but enough to annoy the person left waiting just enough for them to lose some of their judgemental edge. Hence, when he strolled into the park across from the SHIELD building to find his evaluator immersed in a handheld game - was that a Gameboy Color? - and completely ignorant of his presence, he felt just a little miffed.

"What, Nick not give you a nice office to interrogate us all in?" Tony joked, hoping to regain control of the situation.

Jones' eyes flicked up to him briefly. "Gimme just a minute, need to finish this battle-"

A minute later it was being put away, the man smiling apologetically. "Sorry, lost track of time there. Hope I didn't keep ya waiting too long."

"Eh, it's fine," Tony waved it off.

"To answer your question, I find it's a lot nicer to talk to people when you aren't stuck in a stuffy office. Might not be quite as official-seeming, but it works." He grinned and shrugged, standing up. "You wanna walk a bit? We can get something to eat while we chat."

"I'm pretty sure the closest restaurant to here is fifteen minutes on foot. It'd be faster to drive."

"Yeah, but it's a nice day, and I wouldn't mind stretching my legs a bit. Besides, the Mickey D's only five minutes from here."

Tony hummed in thought. "Alright, we can do that instead. But we're still taking the car."

Jones shrugged. "Fine by me."

The billionaire pulled out a small call button that would bring his car around, using the wait time to start the second step of his plan. "Do you take all your dates to fast food restaurants, or am I just special?"

Instead of being offput, Jones laughed. "Only the ones I like. I'm guessing you heard about the dinner I had with Nat the other day?"

"It's just interesting to know that there's someone out there that Natasha will actually dress up for outside of missions."

"We've been friends for a while; if she wants to dress up for a nice dinner to catch up, who am I to turn her down?"

"No one would with those legs," Tony agreed, stepping into the car that'd just arrived as soon as its door opened for him.

Jones followed, the door shutting behind him as the two settled down in seats across from each other. "Nice ride."

"Thanks," Tony leaned back, hand gesturing. "JARVIS, take us to that McDonalds nearby, would you?"

"Right away, sir." The AI replied, the car moving away from the curb without a driver in site.

"You have an AI driving your car?" Jones asked, impressed.

"JARVIS can access almost everything I own; he's like a personal butler, only a lot more useful."

"A flattering description as always, sir."

Jones laughed as Tony not-so-subtly flipped the AI off. "He's still got an attitude problem, though."

"Seems perfectly fine to me."

Tony huffed. "So tell me about yourself, Al. You mentioned a brother?"

"Yeah, Mattie's my twin brother and best friend all in one. Well, when he's not being a little passive-aggressive bitch, anyways."

"If you're twins, why do you have different last names then?" That was the one main oddity on the file aside from the overall neatness.

Jones shrugged. "We grew up separated - Matt lived with his adopted dad up north in Canada for a while while I lived with mine here in the US. My dad eventually got custody of him when Matt's dad couldn't afford to take care of him any longer, and we grew up together from then on. He never bothered to change his name, though, but it's not like that's a huge deal."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yeah," The younger man laughed briefly. "We didn't get on too great at first - he was still really sore about having to leave his pops - so we ended up in a few big rows. Got on great after that, though, so I can't say I regret him coming to live with us. What about you?"

It was Tony's turn to shrug. "I'm pretty sure it's all in my files already - my parents were pretty distant most of my life, so I grew up with my bots instead. Then they died when some drunk ran into their car with his own."

"Yeesh, that sucks." Jones frowned in sympathy.

"Not like there's much I can do about it, now is there?" Tony asked wryly, glancing to the front as the car pulled over.

"We're here, sir. Shall I wait for you out here?"

The two men glanced to each other. "Do we want to eat inside or out here?"

Tony grimaced. "There's no way I'm letting you get food stains all over the inside of my nice limo."

Jones put a hand to his heart. "You're killin' me, bro. Can't believe you'd think I'd do that."

Tony grinned, stepping out of the car. "You've done it to other people though, haven't you?"

"Only when they deserved it." Jones half-denied, stepping out as well. "And its not like you haven't done it!"

"Unlike you, I'm actually a mature adult."

Jones scoffed as they entered, both of them ignoring the surprise muttering of people who had never expected Tony Stark of all people to enter such a place. Seeing as it was before the lunch rush, they were quickly able to reach the front of the line to order.

"One Happy Meal for me, please." Jones grinned at the cashier. Tony gave him a look, which Jones returned with one of his own. "What? There's nothing wrong with wanting one of the toys."

"It's not that," Tony disagreed, seeing as he made a neat side profit off of the popular Avengers figurines being sold with them. "I'm just wondering if you seriously want one of those boxes looking at you the whole time."

Jones turned to look at said boxes and paled rapidly. "Uh, on second thought, just make mine two cheeseburgers, a large fries, and a vanilla milkshake."

Tony shook his head, amused. "Just a hamburger, large fries and a medium drink."

"God, why'd they have to give them those soulless eyes?" The younger man shuddered, wide-eyed. "You don't do that to Happy Meal boxes. It's not right."

"There, there," Tony pat him on the back in sympathy. "They'll be changed back in no time."

"God, I hope so… all those poor kids…"

Tony decided he liked Jones when he was acting more human - even if he acted a lot like a kid, at least it wasn't uptight. If it was an act, it was a damned good one in the genius' opinion.

"What made a guy like you join SHIELD, anyways?" Tony asked once they were sitting in one of the cleaner booths.

Jones swallowed his bite of burger. "They just saw I was good at talking to people and offered me a job; it pays pretty well, and I get to meet some interesting people when they call me in."

"Too bad you weren't around for Loki then; I would have loved to see you try all this on him."

Jones' nose scrunched up. "Even I'm not that crazy. I heard about his mind control powers - I'm more than happy to have never gotten near the guy, and I hope he's locked up for good wherever he is."

"Aw, he was just a big pushover once we knocked him around a bit." Tony stuffed a few fries in his mouth.

"Yeah, but you're a superhero, along with the other Avengers. I'm just a normal guy."

"Actually, I'm just a guy with a fancy suit who happens to be in the right place at the right time."

Jones laughed a little. "Isn't that the same thing, though?"

"Have you actually met Captain Spangles? He could tell you plenty about how I'm not a real hero and all that nonsense."

"Yeah, but you stopped that nuke from hitting New York. You saved all of us here. I think that has to count for something."

"Anyone would've done it if they were there."

Jones leaned forward, looking him in the eye. "But  _you_  did, not someone else. So… thanks, I guess."

Tony shrugged, although he was sort of touched. "You're welcome."

Alright, so the kid wasn't too bad after all, he thought to himself as the guy settled back into his seat. As he settled for answering questions about his thoughts on the others, his mind idly wondered whether that burn scar he thought he saw just peeking over his shirt collar was significant in anyway to those events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I might or might not have lamented my disorganization and lack of motivation to my friend, and she might have joked about making a list of things to do, and I might have actually done it and realized 'hey, I don't have nearly as much to worry about as I thought I did, huh.'
> 
> End note: Does anyone else find the new Happy Meal boxes genuinely terrifying?


	7. The Good Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred has a chat with Dr. Banner and gains some more insight into one of his heroes.

Alfred still felt some lingering guilt each time he was reminded about exactly what Dr. Banner had gone through since his accident. The military was supposed to protect his citizens, not hunt them down! And yes, there had been at one point a order from the President to capture the Hulk, way back when no was was certain how in control the scientist was of his creation, but it had long been revoked. But General Ross...

Well, at least the man was off somewhere else for once, though it bothered the young Nation that the last report on his movements had been from several months ago. Something to look into, perhaps, after this current mess was over with.

For now, though, he had an interview to go through, which was being conducted in Central Park for the man's ease of mind. It was an open place, filled with wildlife and green growing things, and their particular spot was far enough away from the common traffic that they could speak without being overheard.

"Seriously?" Alfred asked, turning to look to his companion. "A girlfriend?"

"Well, sort of." Bruce shrugged, still looking at the gently rippling lake. "I haven't actually talked to her face to face in a few years, so I can't be certain if… whatever we had is still there."

"Aw, dude, that sucks." The Nation sympathized. "Maybe you'll be able to talk to her soon?"

Bruce frowned lightly. "I still don't fully trust myself to stay calm if something bad happens, and I wouldn't be happy knowing I could have accidentally hurt her if I can avoid it. I think this separation is for the better for both of us."

"You should probably at least send her a letter or something explaining first before you just make it final."

"Probably." The scientist gave a thoughtful glance to the younger-looking man. "You know, you sound a lot like Tony sometimes."

"Do I?" Alfred hadn't really thought about it; he didn't really know the man that well, even if he was constantly in the news for one reason or another. The Nation knew there was a difference between the public persona and the actual man, but he doubted he'd ever actually be able to learn those differences for himself.

Bruce nodded. "You like to push and ask questions, and you aren't afraid like most of the others."

"Should I be?" Alfred almost kicked himself, forgetting that he was a normal human and not the World Superpower to Dr. Banner. "I mean, you have the Hulk under control and everything, right?"

"Enough to keep SHIELD happy, at least."

The Nation nodded, turning back to the lake, watching several ducks paddle by in a relatively calm silence.

"Are you friends with Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"Well," Alfred shrugged slightly. "I just noticed you used his first name when you tend to call other people by their last names and titles and stuff."

"Oh," Bruce looked somewhat apologetic, whether at being caught or to admitting to it. "I suppose he is, though I have no idea what to make of him sometimes."

"He's a bit out there, but still loyal if he likes you, right?"

"Pretty much." The doctor agreed. "He offered me a place to stay in his tower while I'm here, and he's gone out of his way to furnish it with a full top of the line laboratory. Though I could have done without the yoga room and anger management books and DVDs."

Alfred chortled at that. "I think every Tony I know is like that. I wonder if it's a thing with anyone called Tony or just a few of them."

"Possibly, though I don't know anyone else with the name myself. What are they like?"

"Huh? Oh-" The Nation hummed in thought, thinking of how to word it so it sounded normal. "Antonio - one of my dad's… frenemies, I guess? - is a really easygoing and pretty chill guy most of the time, but if you threaten his friends, he can be a really scary dude. He actually taught me how to ride horses as a kid, which I'm pretty glad for, to be honest. Horse riding is one of my favorite ways to unwind; I'd recommend it sometime if you have the chance."

"I don't think horses like me much after my accident." Bruce shrugged. "I think they can smell the Other Guy on me."

"Just an idea." Alfred thought a bit more on how exactly to explain his other friend. "Tony - the other one - is actually my best friend and roommate when I'm not working. He's a really smart dude and like tinkering with stuff a lot, but he likes to test it all out on me for some reason."

The scientist grinned a little. "And you're certain it isn't the same person I have to deal with?"

"Fairly sure." Alfred frowned playfully. "I don't think your Tony is short enough to be mine in disguise. And he doesn't swear enough either."

"Sounds like an interesting character."

"Oh, he's great, and the swearing's just how he talks - he doesn't mean it most of the time." Alfred laughed a bit to himself. "He and my pops absolutely  _hate_  each other, though. I try to keep them from being alone together, but sometimes I don't get there in time and they get into these intense glaring matches."

Dr. Banner huffed in amusement. "You lead an interesting life for sure."

"You don't know the half of it." The Nation sighed, smiling. "Wouldn't trade any of it for the world, though. It's nice being friends with a lot of people, ya know? A bit less lonely than living on your own all the time."

His companion was silent for a moment, his look not really readable. "I wouldn't know - I was never really the social type. But… a few people you can trust isn't too bad, I suppose."

Alfred grinned, lightly nudging the other in the arm. "See? Maybe all of this was a good thing then; you got to meet the other Avengers and save the world and be awesome, right?"

Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but said nothing, eventually closing his mouth to rethink his reply. "I'm not a fan of the circumstances that led me to them, but… I guess you have a point."

"Of course I do; I'm awesome." Alfred preened, grinning widely.

The scientist just snorted in amusement. "Yeah, you're definitely just like Tony, ego and all."

"I'll take that as a complement." The Nation sniffed, but he took the jab with a grin, knowing it for the joke it was.

He really hoped the man was able to find closure with himself someday - he was a genuinely nice person, and he didn't deserve all the shit and stress he'd gone through over the past few years. For now though, he could at least help the man realize what he had and hope it was enough to bring him around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this part is coming slow for me, so sorry about not getting it out as fast. I do feel these parts are necessary enough to warrant their own chapters, but I really just want to get past them to the serious action (and I'm sure you do too). I just - need to get these done first, hint at some things for later on if I can.
> 
> I'm back to feeling I'm not really gonna have that Alfred vs Avengers fight in the main body of this story. Like, I'll consider writing it as an omake or something for like 'deleted scenes' - which I already have a few in mind - but I can't think of a point where it'd be relevant? Well, I mean I CAN, but it's not so much a fight as preventing a fight so it's not really a thing still.
> 
> (Also I realized after I posted last chapter that Tony prefers to drive himself places instead of using chauffeurs or AIs or anything. Just - pretend he let JARVIS drive that once to better chat with Alfred or something. Whoops.)


	8. String Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint puts some more old skills of his to good use, and the plot finally takes off!

When Clint was nine, his older brother Barney had taught him how to use a yoyo.

It was one of his few childhood memories that remained untarnished by the events to come later, and had also lead to his less commonly known habit of messing around with one when he was bored or on recon. Natasha had given him a look once when he'd pulled it out during a mission gone sour, but after he'd managed to use it to hook and reel in another guy's gun to get them the firepower they needed to make a break for it, she hadn't said a word against him carrying at least one with him wherever he went.

He wasn't as good with it as he was with his bow, no, nor even as good as he was with a gun, but it was relaxing to do a lot of the tricks he'd picked up over the years, and it'd saved his ass several times already, even if one or two had been lost in the process.

Right now he had a blue and black yoyo with a small gold swirl that seemed to be painted onto almost every last one of them these days. Though it looked like he was busy attempting one of the more complicated tricks, his entire attention was focused on not looking over to where Jones and the Captain were busy talking while still catching as much of their conversation as possible.

Well, most of his attention. The rest of his mind was focused more on what exactly Director Fury and Natasha had on that Jones guy that he didn't, and why they were gathering information from a guy who was very obviously aware of their operations if the way he'd looked directly at Clint with that knowing expression before moving on wordlessly meant anything.

Plus, Natasha went out to dinner with him. And not just in the 'mission to get information' sort of way. That was just plain bizarre in and of itself. Or perhaps not - she got on well with the captain, so it wasn't too hard to imagine she'd get on well with the Captain's veritable lookalike.

If anything was odd, it was that. Sure he'd heard about the whole seven people with the same face thing, but he hadn't really believed it until Jones had walked in, a bundle of tightly wound excitement under a guise of professionalism. He'd kept his mouth shut then, letting the others in the room take most of the evaluator's attention while he determined what they were dealing with.

All well and good, until Natasha had discreetly pulled him to the side and asked him to keep a close eye on the guy when he could manage it.

She knew something. The Director knew something. Heck, Jones knew something, and none of the others had seemed to catch on that there was something wrong with the whole scenario.

"...I can't imagine what it was like growing up during the Great Depression."

"It wasn't easy, but my family managed…"

It was uncanny at how easy it was for Jones to get the others to open up. Stark had stopped at one point after his talk with the guy looking absolutely baffled, soon wandering off while shaking his head and muttering to himself. Dr. Banner had done something similar after his as well, though his reaction was more contained at the time.

Clint had few doubts that, even if he went in aware, Jones would pull the same charismatic trick on him without him realizing it until he'd ended up talking about -

well. Things he preferred to keep buried for the most part.

His hands kept moving in their controlled tugs, keeping the yoyo spinning as his attention was diverted to the sound of someone coming down another hallway. The guy in standard SHIELD uniform walked right past him after a moment, missing the archer's presence entirely or else just ignoring him in favor of what - who, to be more precise - he was focused on.

Clint had called it again. Hopefully once this was cleaned up he would actually be brought up to speed on what exactly was going on with Jones and this whole evaluation mess.

Unfortunately, he had to wait long enough so that the target wouldn't realize someone was following him, without being so far behind that he couldn't help restrain the guy if necessary. In addition, he needed to see exactly what was being palmed in the guy's hand, which meant he needed to actually let the guy have the first strike.

Hard, but not a challenge.

Clint counted off fourteen seconds before casually bringing the yoyo out of its last trick, a cat's cradle, rerolling the string as he followed after. The blond duo still hadn't noticed the guy, or at least hadn't made a sign of noticing him, meaning the target was likely going to get in the first hit unless Jones had fast enough reflexes-

There it was - Jones had stiffened and turned just as the guy sprinted the last few stepped, grabbing the hand with the whatever it was in one wrist while twisting to block the incoming knee strike. The Captain stepped in to help just as the target broke away, spinning the - syringe? - once before going for another attack, this one managing to get the very tip to embed into Jone's hand before he was kicked away.

Whether Rogers had noticed him or not, it made Clint's life quite a bit easier when he managed to drive the guy back another few steps, just within range of the yoyo's string, which wrapped neatly around his neck and stopped him hard as the other two took the chance to pin him down, knock him out, and take the syringe away from his body.

"Thanks for that," Jones nodded to Clint, wincing slightly as he rubbed at his hand. "Should've been paying more attention."

"Are you okay?" The Captain asked, turning to the younger man with a frown. "Did anything in that shot get into your system?"

"I don't think so…" Jones frowned as well. "I mean, I don't feel any different-"

He stopped, eyes glazing slightly, before he sharply bent over into a hacking cough, the hand he barely thought to cover his mouth with coming away with blood.

Rogers hissed out a few less than flattering words before looking to Clint. "Get his down to the infirmary block now and tell the Director what happened. I'm going to make sure this guy can't escape or destroy any evidence."

"Yessir." Clint gave a half-salute, hoisting the dazed agent over a shoulder and helping him down the halls as fast as he could manage.

"Don't- don't need to worry…" Jones muttered, blinking sluggishly. "I'll be fine in like an hour tops…"

"Yeah, considering how fast that drug acted on you I'm not taking the chance you won't be dead by then." Clint kept moving, catching the attention of several workers coming back from lunch. "Pretty sure Fury would have my head if I let that happen to you if Natasha didn't claim it first."

"Nah, she's too nice for that…" His eyes slid shut, and Clint briefly staggered as the weight seemed to double, probably because the guy had just fallen unconscious. Fortunately, another agent had stopped gawking long enough to get under his other arm and help Clint haul him the rest of the way to the medical wing; apparently someone had thought to call ahead, as there were already two doctors waiting to drag him into the infirmary for emergency treatment.

It took less that five minutes for Natasha and Fury to show up, the latter grim while the former looked shaken despite her best efforts. "What happened to him?"

"Someone tried to inject him with this," Clint replied, handing the syringe over to Fury automatically. "Whatever it was, it acted fast; he went from normal to coughing up blood and fainting in less than five minutes. Captain Rogers is still with the attacker in order to keep him from escaping or offing himself."

He knew he hadn't missed the sheer shock in her eyes at that, nor the brief tensing of Fury's face and body. Whoever Jones was, apparently what had happened was not normal for him, or else he was more important to them than he'd picked up on.

"I want an analysis on this compound finished yesterday," Fury turned his glare onto the nearest free doctor, who immediately accepted the syringe and hurried into the lab to get to work. Several of her coworkers followed, not wanting to be caught with an angry Fury.

Clint leaned back against the wall, watching the two share the shortest of glances before turning back to him. "Is there something important I should know now that whatever I was supposed to keep an eye on him for happened?"

Natasha pursed her lips, giving him another of those looks that told him she wasn't happy about where his question was leading. "It's not something for me to tell. If Alfred wants to tell you he will."

That implied he was surviving this despite the condition he'd been in when he'd been brought in. Interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we get into the main plot of the story, hoorah! I also gave Clint some screentime, because he and Nat deserve it for being awesome people in a team of superhumans. Also, the oddest headcanons get me to start writing. I think just for the sheer awesomeness that yoyo's gonna become important down the line.
> 
> I wonder how many of you can guess what's coming up considering the hints and stuff I've dropped already. I haven't been trying to hide it too much, but it'll still be interesting to see exactly what you guys think is coming (I'll be honest, I don't think anyone's gonna get it exactly right, but some might come close.)


	9. Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a reason Fury's damned good at his job, and it's not because of his looks.

Fury looked down at the captured soldier who was only now coming to, gritting his teeth ever so slightly as he tried to keep his blood from boiling. Not that such was his fault; Rogers hadn't seemed to be restraining himself much better when he'd brought the body in, though the captain probably had no clue why he was still so worked up.

The cell they were in was simple in looks, but was designed along the same lines as the prison that had been intended to hold the Hulk. Even with his apparent enhanced strength, he was not escaping anytime soon, and it was obvious to all three people in the room.

Natasha got her information by playing a person's ego against them. He preferred the more direct route.

"You'll find the suicide pill you had in your tooth is gone, as well as all other weapons and personal belongings." Fury looked down at the man registered as a Private Harold Clark, who gave him a much more infuriated glare back.

"I'm not going to tell you anything."

"You've already told me more than enough through your actions this afternoon, Private Clark."

The soldier's eyes flashed in surprise before his face reformed into a determined scowl. If it were in his nature, Fury would have smiled at how easy it was to intimidate someone into sharing information just by acting like you knew it all already.

"Infiltrating a secure government facility with a specialized anti-superserum drug that would only affect one person in existence." The Captain look startled on hearing that, though Fury could deal with his questions later. "And if the general believes he can get away with attacking such an important figure without consequence, he must be more of an idiot than I thought."

"The general is a great man!" The soldier snapped, and Fury knew he'd hit the right notes. "Getting rid of the false representative is the only way to save this country from itself!"

False representative? Did this soldier even realize who Alfred was? He had to in order to use the term 'representative' so firmly, but why would anyone think Alfred was anything but the genuine America? And why in the world would General Ross - who he knew was aware of Alfred's identity - call an attack on him?

There was no doubt that Alfred had been the target - the dosage of anti-Nation serum in that vial would have killed anyone, superpowered or otherwise. It was a miracle the worst the Nation had suffered was some internal bleeding that was likely already patching itself up if the stable condition he'd been reported was at all accurate.

Fury turned back to Private Clark, a brief glance to Rogers - who was looking fairly offput by the supposed attack at him - reminding him that he couldn't press for more details in a way that wouldn't alert the Captain that he was not the target of the attack. "So you took it upon yourself to strike preemptively, despite having orders against it until the general was ready."

Considering how fast the soldier paled, Fury had hit the mark again. Not that it wasn't obvious since the man hadn't had any sort of back-up and there were no other timed attacks on important personnel. "He'll have my head once he finds out."

The director felt there was nothing else he was going to get for now, not that he didn't have enough as it was. "You won't have to worry about that for a long time. I'd consider getting comfortable in your new residence."

With a gesture for Rogers to follow, Fury turned and left the room, not waiting for the door to automatically shut and lock behind them as he made his way down the halls towards the infirmary.

"Director, a civilian got injured because of someone targetting me. I don't want to wait for whoever sent that soldier after me to try again and hurt more people in the process."

"You'll be leaving with your team tomorrow afternoon for the Verta Military Complex, where the rest of Private Clark's squad is currently stationed. Your mission will be to investigate the complex and if necessary destroy any superserum related operations going on there."

The Captain nodded, face grim. "Who are the people on my team, sir?"

"That's up to your discretion, though I would highly recommend bringing Agent Romanoff along."

"Already planning on it."

The two turned into the infirmary, where to Roger's surprise and Fury's lack Alfred was already conscious and trying to get up, though Dr. Banner was doing a good job keeping him in bed.

"You shouldn't even be awake yet with how quickly that drug affected you," The doctor complained, frowning at the uncooperative patient.

"I just recover fast, okay?" The Nation replied, looking like he was about to make another move to get up before he caught sight of the two newcomers. "Oh, hey Captain, Director."

"I see you're giving the doctors trouble." Fury greeted, causing Alfred to wince slightly.

"I told them I'm fine, but they won't let me get up," He gestured to the room. "And I'm really getting tired of them trying to prod me with needles and stuff."

Read: I'm trying really hard not to get found out, because it'd be really awkward to explain why my blood seems to be entirely a raw form of superserum.

"You won't have to worry about that," Alfred started to relax, the beginnings of a smile starting to form. "Because I'm having you sent home immediately to recover."

"What?" Alfred sat up straight despite protests, heavily focused on the director. "You can't do that, I'm still-"

"Recovering from an attack that no one could bounce back from in a few hours." Fury leveled his authoritative gaze against the Nation. "You can finish your evaluation after the current issues have been dealt with and you've had a chance to rest."

He could see the conflict in Alfred's look as he frowned, clearly unhappy with the idea of being unable to do anything. "I can still help, though."

Rogers replied first, stepping forward. "You've already have helped more than you think by helping me fight and capture that soldier."

The Nation blinked, hesitating a second before responding, "It was nothing, really. I mean, I'd do it again if I had to."

"I know you would," The Captain continued, now smiling. "Which is why it would be safer for both of us if you took some time to recover. I wouldn't want something to happen to you after all you've done so far."

"I-" Alfred frowned, eventually looking away with a sigh. "Alright, but I'm only going under protest."

Fury would have laughed at how put out the Nation was at being skillfully manipulated into cooperating if it were just the two of them, but as it was, the slight hint of an amused smile on his face was more than enough for the Nation to pick up on, leaving the young looking man even more put out.

Dr. Banner took the chance to catch his attention, the two moving slightly away from everyone else so the doctor could report. "Director, there's something you should know about the blood sample we took from the soldier. It has traces of the key chemical in the superserum in it. I think whoever attacked Agent Jones has restarted the superserum project."

Fury nodded. "I suspected something like that. Do you think you could reverse engineer more of that antiserum?"

The doctor nodded. "With the right resources and a few hours, I can probably have a few dozen less potent injections available that should break down the serum without killing the soldiers in the process."

"Good, we'll need as many of them alive as possible." The director turned to leave and inform the Captain of the development.

"Sir, this has something to do with General Ross, doesn't it?"

Fury turned back, frowning. "That is not information you need to know at this time."

"Sir, I've dealt with him enough to know what he's like." Dr. Banner was frowning as well. "He's been obsessed with the supersoldier program for a long time, and something like this would be just up his alley. And your report on him said he was laying low for the past two years; he's been up to something, and I'd bet a lot of money that this was what he's been being so secretive about."

The man straightened, looking tired but determined. "If you're going to go after the general, I'm coming along. I- need to stop him before he starts hurting even more innocents because of it."

Fury raised an eyebrow, wondering if the attack on Alfred had been that jarring to him, or if something else was the main pushing point. "Are you sure that's what you want to do, Dr. Banner?"

"I don't want to do it," He corrected. "But this is something I have to do, or I'll spend the rest of my life worrying about what he'll do next."

The director nodded, turning away again. "Let Captain Rogers know that you're going to be part of his team; he'll be in charge of the operation."

"Understood."

Quite the interesting development, all things considered. But if nothing else, having the Hulk there as backup should things go wrong could help in the long run, even with the risks involved. He didn't miss the irony that for once it was the doctor hunting the general down.

Fury doubted Dr. Banner had missed the irony either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ulgh, this didn't come easy, but I fucking did it, and I think the next few chapters should come a bit easier? Ah, can't say one way or another. And I'm breaking the alternation of Alfred and Avenger POV for this because otherwise the story doesn't flow quite right. Oh well, I guess it couldn't last forever.
> 
> If you're wondering, the serum in both Steve and Nick reacted to the stress Alfred's body was put under by the attack by causing a boost of adrenaline in their bodies as well. Since Fury's more aware of why it had happened, he was able to calm himself a lot more effectively. The captain'll be fine in a chapter or two.
> 
> I know there wasn't a lot of action in that first fight sequence, but was it alright? There should be more action scenes as we get into the meat of the tale. I'm actually sort of excited for it all, and I'm guessing you guys are too. This story should be about another ten to fifteen chapters I'm thinking? I'm honestly not sure, but it'll be a ride none the less.


	10. I Don't Think This Is A Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony felt left out of all the action lately, so he decided to retake the spotlight. Again.

"You're going to do what?"

Bruce sighed, putting the last of the vials into the case with him before turning to a baffled Tony. "I'm going with Captain Rogers and the others to locate and capture General Ross."

"Yeah, I heard that," The billionaire shook his head. "I thought you didn't want to go on combat missions - isn't that why you moved out to India or someplace to set up your clinic?"

"That was because they need good doctors there more than they do here; keeping the other guy quiet and staying out of sight were just lucky additions."

Right, like those weren't his big priority. Tony knew Bruce better than the other man thought. "Who else is going with you?"

"Agents Romanoff and Barton." Bruce pulled the strap of his case over his shoulder. "And why are you here? I thought you were off active duty to focus on your company."

Dang, maybe the other guy could read him well too. "I heard what happened to Alfred, and I wanted to bring a get well present."

"Ah," The scientist glanced down to the basket under his friend's arm. "I was wondering why you had that. He's already been checked out for bedrest at home."

Tony blinked, frowning. "After a few hours?"

"It was Fury's orders," Bruce admitted. "He'd recovered faster than I expected, and Director Fury came in while Agent Jones was trying to leave and basically ordered him to go home until he recovered."

"Huh, weird. I guess I'll deliver it later then." The basket was placed casually on the table, Tony's gaze sliding to the box. "What've you been working on?"

"It's something for the mission; since you're not involved I'm under orders not to tell anyone." Bruce looked apologetic.

"It's fine, I'll just bug Fury about it later until he gives in. He likes me too much to keep it from me forever." Tony grinned, leaning against the counter.

The scientist shook his head in bemusement. "Good luck with that. I need to get going, the plane's leaving soon."

"Yeah yeah, wouldn't want to make Captain Spangles upset." The billionaire waved Bruce off, waiting until the other's footsteps were gone until he pulled out his pad. "JARVIS, what've you got for me?"

"Apparently the drug was a highly concentrated antiserum designed to counteract the key chemicals in the serum used on Captain Rogers. In addition, a weaker copy of the serum was found in the blood of the prisoner currently being kept in one of the high risk cells."

"So the General's trying to restart the supersoldier program, great. Any idea where they're heading?"

"Records point to an abandoned military complex in the mountains where the original serum was first created by your father. General Ross last stationed his team there as well."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Great, just what I want to deal with, cleaning up more of my dad's messes."

"Sir, your new suit isn't complete yet, and Ms. Potts will likely be extremely upset if you break your promise to her so soon."

"I'll buy her something nice on the way home," The genius replied idly. "Just finish it and get it over here. There's no way I'm gonna let them have all the fun without me."

"Right away, sir."

Tony ignored whatever tone of annoyance might have been present, instead casually making his way up to the roof. Along the way he found his mind wandering, ultimately coming back to focus on Alfred's place in all this.

There was something about the situation that just didn't add up; clearly the guy who'd snuck in had enough intelligence to pass himself off as a legitimate agent, and he knew Alfred and the Captain didn't look that alike, so why did he keep on attacking the wrong guy instead of his supposed target? And he'd seen the data sets - the concentration in that vial would have killed any human regardless of serum in the blood or otherwise; it would be like euthanizing a mouse with horse tranquilizer.

But despite that, Alfred had recovered abnormally fast, able to move within an hour of hacking up blood. Normal people didn't go from internal damage to moving around that fast, not even the Captain with his fancy bloodwork. The speed of regeneration that would take would require - heck, it'd require the guy's blood to be made of superserum or something!

He stopped for a second, pondering the idea. Would it actually be possible for a person to survive that, and if so, what sort of abilities would they have? Would their lives be extended indefinitely, or was there an upper limit to the regeneration potential after all?

Wait, he was on the roof now. Huh.

"Sir, your suit is on its way to your location now."

"Thanks, JARVIS," Tony replied idly, tapping his fingers on his leg. "Could a human being survive if their blood was nothing but serum?"

"Highly unlikely, sir," The AI replied. "The toxicity of several of the elements of the serum would cause the body to shut down."

The genius tilted his head back, watching the object he could now see flying towards him. "What if they weren't human, then?"

~0~0~

Bruce was starting to second guess his decision to come along now that they were actually on their way. The slightly cramped feeling of the cabin they were in didn't help, but his main concern was how he would handle actually facing the General without the Other Guy getting, well, angry.

Steve had already taken the box from him when they'd taken off, separating out the shots and giving an equal number to everyone. "Use these right away if you can manage it; if you run out and there are more soldiers, try your best to knock them out and wait for the other group to meet up with you.

"Dr. Banner, you and Agent Barton are going to locate the lab where they're manufacturing the serum and destroy everything; notes, chemicals, anything related to the project. Agent Romanoff and I will look for the General and bring him back to face his charges."

Bruce could feel some of the tension slip away from his shoulders at that - he would not have to face the General head on, not right away at least. There was a twinge of guilt, though, at the thought that even now he was avoiding the man who had obsessed over him and his research for almost a decade.

Suddenly there was a alert from the front of the plane, the co-pilot focused on the radar screen as he announced, "Incoming object, small, rapidly approaching, no heat signature-"

A crackle came over the com system, before a familiar heavy metal song started blasting from the player. Everyone not flying the plane looked to the back door as it opened, allowing the familiar red and silver suit to land inside.

"Stark," Steve greeted neutrally as the billionaire's helmet came off to reveal a cheeky grin.

"What, you thought you guys could have a little reunion party without inviting me? I'm hurt."

"You aren't a part of this mission," The supersoldier replied shortly.

"I'm a huge financer for SHIELD operations, including the Avengers Initiative. I can do what I want, Captain Spandex."

Steve frowned, but Bruce already knew just as well that they wouldn't be able to just send him away. "Fine, but you're following my orders, got it?"

"I'll think about it." Probably the best the Captain was going to get. Tony settled in next to Bruce, looking all too pleased with himself.

This was going to be a long flight, wasn't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shrugs. Also for the notes in last chapter, I didn't realize that the first bit wasn't necessary. Whoops. Just ignore it and pretend I didn't say anything like that so that we can all go on happy with our lives and this story.
> 
> No worries about Alfred, he'll be back; he isn't being left out of the action if he can help it. He is a hero, after all. I should mention, though - why is everyone expecting Matt to show up? I have made no references to him in this story at all aside from the meeting at the start, and really it's just an odd thing to expect everything from my old version to show up here.
> 
> Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter, but yeah this is basically all I felt really fit. I guess there's always room for deleted scenes after I finish the main story...


	11. Helping Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred, much like Tony, does not like being left out of the story for long.

"Pssssssh, this blows." Thus spoke Alfred F. Jones, the centuries old personification of the United States of America, as he pouted and kicked his legs away from the side of his bed.

Sure, he was a little bit sore still, but he was definitely fine and didn't need any bedrest, no matter what sort of look he got from his boss or Fury or whoever else thought he needed to stay still for so many boring hours of his endless life. Besides Matt, but Matt was scary when you pissed him off so honestly anyone would do what he told you to do when he had that 'I am going to gut you if you don't get under the covers right now Alfred' look.

Wait, what was he thinking about?

Right, he was stuck in his house while the Avengers went out to stop whoever it was who was messing around with old projects that should have been left buried forever. And that was Not Cool to the youngish American.

His pout settled into a more serious frown, legs coming to rest as he thought hard about the issue. He'd had a gut feeling of something wrong for a good while now, even before the Council had called him up, and it wasn't just because of the old war dreams being dredged up recently. There was something fundamentally wrong with this whole situation, and he couldn't help but think that if he sat back and did nothing more people were going to be attacked and possibly killed.

A shudder ran through his body, eyes unfocused briefly before he returned from his deeper thoughts. No, he had to believe in his heroes, and that they could solve this issue without him, just like they had New York and the Mandarin and all those other villains before.

Still… who said he couldn't help just a little bit, tilt the odds in their favor? It wasn't really  _cheating_  if no one knew he was helping them in his own ways, after all. A stray idea, a convenient path, a lucky rockfall on the enemy - none of those could be pinned on some teenager who for all intents and purposes was pretty normal.

Heroes always got lucky breaks in the movies, after all.

A grin slowly grew as he thought more along this track - he knew where they were going, and he knew the layout far better than they even could. If he were to just sneak ahead, unjar the right doors, weaken the right points, it'd let them do their duty without anyone, especially Fury, ever know he'd disobeyed orders.

Still, how would he get there in time? It's not like he could just teleport there-

Wait, actually he could. He pushed himself off the bed, almost barreling out the door before remembering the agent that'd been left in the house to keep an eye on him. If he just blindly started yelling for Tony, the guy would figure out something was up fast.

Alfred closed his eyes for just long enough to determine that the agent was downstairs while Tony was in his lab, just past the kitchen. He sighed, groaning in thought and already apologizing for what he was about to do. Putting on a smile, he pushed the door open and nanced downstairs, even inch of him innocent and bubbly.

"Hey, did ya make lunch? I'm starving here!"

The agent looked up from their phone, blinking briefly at the sheer enthusiasm directed at her, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, but if you want something, you'll have to make it yourself."

"Aww," The personification pouted, shoulders drooping briefly before he bounced back to his chipper mood. "I'll make us burgers then!"

"Sir, you really don't need to-"

"Pshaw, I promise you'll want one once you try mine, I make the best burgers in the universe-"

Alfred stepped close to swang a friendly arm around her shoulder, smile dropping into an apology as he tapped the side of her head. Catching the unconscious form, he settled her into a chair before turning and darting down the hall.

"Hey, Tony! Do ya think you can give me a ride somewhere?"

A grey head stuck out from the opened doorway, red eyes unblinking as the alien chittered something to him.

"C'mon, bud, you know I'm just fine! And I have to do something to help them out."

More chittering, unphased by the pleading expression on his long-time friend's face.

"Look, I promise I'll stay out of sight, alright? And I won't do anything too crazy like take on a bunch of enemies all at once. I just want to help them out a little."

Tony hummed briefly, ducking back into his room before coming out with something and shoving it into his hands. When he realized it was a long-ranged health monitor, he grinned as it suck in what his friend was trying to imply. "Dude, you are seriously the best friend ever."

The alien chittered some more until Alfred pulled the thing on over his arm, finally pulling out another device that caused the two of them to shift from his Virginia house to a much higher tech setting; Tony's ship.

"Right, we need to get here fast." Alfred pointed out the spot on a display, easily messing with it to zoom in on the area with the hidden complex. It only took the alien a second to put in the coordinates, another second for the ship to quickly shoot off in that direction.

God, spaceships were awesome.

In minutes they were there, and Alfred stood back to not be in the way of anything before Tony beamed him back down. "Don't let anyone see you, 'kay buddy? I'll be back on the surface as soon as I'm done."

With an exchange of salutes, Alfred was in the middle of the woods, the doorway inside just a few steps in front of him. With a grin he stepped forward and cracked it open, noticing the disturbed dust as he stepped inside and mostly shut it behind him.

No waiting party? That was good; it'd make his life so much easier if he didn't set off any alarms before everyone else got there.

He couldn't shake off the feeling he was being watched, though, even though his Sense told him there weren't any of his people around. Alfred prayed it wasn't ghosts - he had his limits, and that one definitely one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh. In case my hints weren't enough, NO. There is no Matthew, there are no other Nations, and there will not be any other Nations showing up in this story. I'm sorry to disappoint, but this is focused on Alfred and the Avengers. I'll keep on referencing them perhaps, but they are not in any way important to the main story here.
> 
> Annnnnnnnnd now that I've pissed off everyone reading this story, I guess I should say I'm about halfway through it now? I don't know how many more chapters there are before I finish to be honest, but we're getting into the build-up actiony stuff so yeah that's what I'm basing it all on.
> 
> But hey, Tony! Tony the alien is awesome, and Tony the billionaire is too. We'll see how long it takes for people to find out the truth about Al, but for now, let's just have some more awesome times with Alfred.


	12. A Word Of Caution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To be fair, he really should give people warning so he doesn't get shot on accident.

The facility didn't look like it was in any sort of use at first glance. Dust coated everything, the lights barely worked in most cases, and there were no sounds aside from their own footsteps and breathing. It was almost something out of a historical documentary, or perhaps a horror story.

Of course, if one stopped to notice that the dust had been recently disturbed, or that there was no obvious land line connecting the facility to any sort of outside power source, or that the doors that were mysteriously unlocked or even slightly ajar, they would be more likely to conclude that someone at least had been there recently.

Natasha kept her eyes on the path behind her as she and Steve descended further into the old facility. The other three had already gone in another direction to search for whatever they could find, half the antiserum shots on their belts. She silently hoped Clint would be able to keep the other two from either accidentally or purposefully collapsing part of the facility on themselves.

"Have you seen anything yet?" Steve asked, briefly drawing her attention from one of the side halls they were passing.

"Nothing besides more dust." She replied, lips pursed. "But someone has been here recently."

The supersoldier nodded slightly, frowning more. "I don't like this; he should have patrols or guards out to make sure no one could investigate."

"They might not know their cover's blown yet," Natasha guessed, though she felt he was right. "Or we could be walking right into a trap. I guess it depends on how paranoid the General feels about his missing soldier."

"Or we could be going the wrong way and the others are about to run into a trap."

"In that case, we don't have to worry, because we'll hear the building collapsing from the Hulk getting loose." Natasha mused, the lightest of smiles flashing on her face at the joke.

Steve cracked a grin briefly before settling back into mission mode. "Even if we doubled back, it'd take too long to find them and warn them, so we have to count on them holding their own if things go south."

She hadn't really expected a different course of action from the soldier. "Let's focus on not falling into a trap ourselves, then."

Steve stopped briefly, holding out a finger while looking down a hall. 'Movement, singular'

She nodded, bringing up her gun and moving around him to get a sight down the same hallway, not seeing any movement herself but trusting his judgement. They glanced to each other, nodding once, before they started down that hall as quietly as they could manage, Natasha much more wary now of a trap of some kind. There was no movement behind them, though, even as they settled to either side of the door the motion had been near.

The two exchanged glances, Natasha briefly holding up three fingers before moving slightly so Steve could come around and knock the door open, her gun up right behind his as they both aimed into the room at-

"Ack, don't shoot!"

Natasha bit back the urge to swear or at least facepalm, her gun dropping first as she slipped past Steve to better glare at a startled Alfred holding his hands up in surrender. "What in the world are you doing here? No, wait, you're trying to play hero again, aren't you?"

"I was just trying to help a little!" He replied, looking more upset about being caught by them than, well, being caught away from his Fury-ordered bedrest. "I wasn't even gonna try and fight, I swear!"

Natasha sighed as Steve reholstered his own weapon, seeing the device on his arm and figuring that was the reason he'd managed to get ahead of them despite the late start. "We can handle ourselves just fine with or without you, Alfred. You need to get out of here before we run into any soldiers; your ride is still out there, right?"

"Duh," Alfred looked miffed at the accusation. "You think he'd leave while I'm here? And besides, I know the layout of this place better than either of you, I could lead you right to where the old project offices are and everything."

"How do you know about them?" Steve was frowning again. "No one's worked here since the forties."

"I've been here once or twice on assignment," Alfred deflected to Natasha's relief. "And I found the place on accident. Only told Fury, but I still remember the way at least."

The soldier's skepticism started to show. "Director Fury never mentioned that in his briefing."

"Probably because he didn't want to give me an excuse to come."

"If we let you take us there, do you swear to go home right afterwards?" She asked before the back and forth could escalate.

"Nat-"

"Fine, but only if you promise to be careful. Real careful." Alfred was frowning now, looking rather serious as he lowered his arms.

"Of course we're going to be careful-" Natasha started, only to be interrupted again.

"No, I mean seriously careful." His gaze bore the weight of his history as he looked right at her, and she briefly wondered whether Steve could even recognize it for what it was. "I've been getting this really bad vibe from the place, and I'm not thinking it's ghosts. The whole place is just way too quiet, if you hadn't noticed."

Oh, she'd noticed, but the actual meaning of his words, directed just to her, was much more chilling. It wasn't his people down there.

Considering they were all American soldiers, that was impossible. Unless...

"Natasha?" She blinked, looking away from Alfred to Steve, who was looking concerned at her silence. "What's wrong?"

"I-" She glanced back to Alfred for a second. "We should listen to him. I've known him long enough to know his instincts are usually right."

"Are you sure?" Steve asked quietly. She nodded, causing him to sigh as he looked back to Alfred. "Then I'll trust you to keep your end of the bargain, Agent Jones."

Alfred grinned slightly. "Back at you, Captain."

As they left the room, Steve turned to glance at him. "How did you get here before us? The ship's radar didn't pick up any other signatures going past us the entire trip here."

"I have my ways," Alfred deflected again, and Natasha figured this was going to be a long walk. Her hand twitched next to her gun, and she wished briefly Alfred hadn't been there with his warning to make her so jumpy.

It'd probably save their lives, though, so she couldn't be too upset with him right now. Later, perhaps, once this situation had blown over and she had full authority to chew him out from Fury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfred, dearie, I love you but sometimes you fail in the most obvious of ways, including right when you need to be stealthy to get out of there before anyone notices you. Not that I think you would have anyways, but still. And I don't know who's more irritated with him, Nat or Steve. Probably Nat because she knows him for who and what he is and probably should have expected this.
> 
> I was originally gonna try to have three teams or two, but since I couldn't think of a justification for it, I just brought Nat along so that she gets more awesome screentime with Steve and Al ala Captain America 2. Don't worry, though, Clint'll get more screentime too, having to deal with his two. Everything should turn out alright even with the last minute adjustments...


	13. Clued In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint can handle infiltration missions just fine. Babysitting two distracted eggheads while he's at it? Not so easy.

Of all the missions Clint had been on in his long years with SHIELD, this had to be one of the least ideal situations he'd been stuck in. Sure, they hadn't run into any enemies yet, and sure he still had his bow, his holstered gun, and his yoyo all in place and in solid condition, but none of that was really that big a deal.

No, what was was the two idiots with doctorates behind him who failed to understand that this was a stealth mission and thus silence was sort of mandatory when trying to not get caught.

(Though why he hadn't interrupted them yet was another question entirely, one which he deliberately did not want to answer just yet.)

"It's the only thing that makes sense, though!" Stark told Dr. Banner, helmet still tucked under his arm. "You said he recovered faster than you'd expected, and there's the report on the fight that said he held his own against a supersoldier, which is impossible for a normal person."

"But then why would he be on Earth?" Dr. Banner argued. "There haven't been many reports of those storms caused by their transport system, and Thor didn't act like it was common for his people to come by."

"I don't know, maybe he came here a long time ago and stuck around," The billionaire threw a hand out. "Or maybe he's the bastard kid of a one night stand or something."

"Maybe," Dr. Banner reluctantly agreed. "But that doesn't explain why SHIELD and the government would be so at ease with a god- or demi-god-like alien just hanging around."

Stark frowned, thinking hard about that. "Or why he'd want to be stuck in Earth politics for that matter."

As one the two of them turned to Clint, as if just remembering his existence. Which they probably were, to be honest. "I don't know anything about it," He replied to their question. "I'm not high enough clearence."

"Damn," Tony started, only to be hushed by a suddenly tense Clint.

"Footsteps. Patrol." The archer informed them, knowing they didn't know the military signs for such. They both frowned, Stark putting his helmet back on as the three listened for the slowly approaching sounds.

To their luck there was a door cracked open nearby, and after gesturing to it the three carefully pushed it open enough for all of them to slip in, closing it just as carefully so only a crack of light came through. Less than a minute later the soldiers passed by, the sound of their boots on concrete fading away.

"Well, that was close," Stark commented after a minute, though he kept his voice low. "Think there's a chance they'll lead us to where we need to go?"

Dr. Banner looked unhappy with the idea of following them, but Clint nodded. "We'll need to go now if we want to keep track of them."

"Right," Stark pulled the door open for them again, allowing the three to edge out and silently start after the soldiers. With the mission truly underway now, the two doctors were thankfully silent while they kept track of the distant footsteps, though Dr. Banner was still looking unenthused at the whole situation.

Well, that was what he got for wanting to come along on a stealth mission. Not everyone was cut out for it, but at least he was learning now and not on a much more dangerous one. (Not that Clint believed he would actually get killed on this mission considering the Hulk, but still. There were worse situations to unleash a big green fighting machine on.)

They came to a sudden stop at one of the corners, Clint raising a finger for silence while he gave the briefest of glances around the corner, pulling his head back almost as soon as he'd put it out before letting himself register what he'd seen.

"Two soldiers at the end, either side of a door. Two feet apart, head at six foot one for both." He gave a look to Stark, who seemed to get what he meant after a second.

"You get the left, I get the right?" He asked, his helmet probably providing the visual for him already.

"Keep it quiet; we don't want to alert anyone else that we're here."

"Right, they'll never hear it coming." The right hand glove was adjusted slightly, moving away from the wall enough to move when Clint gave the signal.

"Dr. Banner, be ready to follow us; we won't have much time until another patrol comes by and sees the door unguarded."

The scientist nodded, body tense. With that out of the way, Clint moved into position himself. Pulling an arrow from his quiver and cocking it in his bow, he held out three fingers, dropping them one by one until his whole hand was against the bow again.

At once he and Stark moved out, his arrow already fired straight into the chest of his target while the other was knocked back into the wall by a blast of energy. The soldiers both crumpled to the floor, and the trio quickly crossed the hall to get through the door, Dr. Banner only pausing a moment to inject them both with the antiserum before following them in and closing the door behind them.

Stark whistled. "Nice setup they have here."

With the modern equipment spread out around the large room, Clint wasn't inclined to disagree. While it wasn't set up for true mass production, it was obvious that it could easily be expanded as much as necessary. If he had to guess there would be another room with the already-created injections, ready to give to whatever other loyal soldiers the general could find once he revealed his project.

It was a damned good thing they'd gotten here when they did.

Dr. Banner pulled out one of the vials, turning it over with an unreadable expression. "The genuine supersoldier serum… I didn't think the world would ever see it again…"

"Is it just me, or does it look like blood?" Stark asked, also holding a vial and looking it over.

"We're here to destroy it, not examine it." Clint reminded, not mentioning that part of his orders had been to isolate enough of the paperwork for SHIELD to recreate the serum for themselves if necessary. It was a powerful secret, after all, and one they couldn't afford to let vanish a second time.

"Yeah, yeah," Stark dismissed, putting it back before heading further down the table to pick up some papers. He paused, not saying anything while Dr. Banner came over to examine them as well. "What the heck?"

"I recognize this; it's one of the formulas I tried early on in my research." Dr. Banner was frowning. "I moved on after I found out I'd need a substance that didn't exist to make it work, but apparently that ingredient does exist after all."

"It almost looks like DNA, but it's nothing JARVIS recognizes." Tony looked back to the vials again, before looking to his companion. "You don't think-"

"You might have been right about him after all," The scientist finished. "And why the government would keep him under wraps-"

"-because he's the key to recreating the serum."

Clint, while listening in to all of this, had been going around and checking each of the doors from the room. Two had just been storage closets, each containing a few pallets of what appeared to be the serum and its ingredients. After carefully planting the explosives in each, he moved on to the third door, which opened into an office of sorts instead. There were several filing cabinets, a nice wooden desk, and a chair facing away from the door.

There was someone occupying the chair, wearing a familiar military cap.

Clint mentally swore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, last hard chapter right here. Literally everything else is fairly solid from here on out, so we should be done and happy. Then of course come the epilogue scenes and the deleted scenes and such but those aren't as high a priority I think. Hopefully everyone will be satisfied with my ending and reasonings for everything, some things sorta only settled in last minute.
> 
> Speaking of last minute, that's basically where the direction of this chapter came from. I have this strategy of waiting for inspiration or trying to slug out ideas depending on my mood, and with as tired as I am I figured I'd do the former. Naturally, that means that I have to talk to people indirectly and just let my brain wander until something clicks and I go 'Oh! That's what I need!'
> 
> In retrospect writing on a divine inspiration basis probably isn't the way to solid authorship, but it's work for me so far so I can only pray it works in the future. Ahaha… yeah…
> 
> (Whoops looks like the wrong people ran into the General! Hopefully Bruce won't react too poorly… ehehehehe…)


	14. Akbar Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alfred's bad feeling pan out to probably one of his worst case scenarios.

Alfred's nerves refused to settle as they made their way down the convoluted maze of darkened halls, his gun weighing nothing in his hands but heavily in his thoughts. The very idea that he'd have to raise a gun to his own people was enough to make him queasy; the last time he'd been forced to was-

He steadily forced those memories back where they belonged. ' _It wasn't my fault; there was nothing I could have done to stop it.'_

"Alfred?" Natasha asked from besides him, jolting him back to reality with the knowledge that he'd stopped at an intersection.

"Sorry, sorry, just remembering the way. It's been a while 's all."A fast glance and reassuring grin to her told him she didn't entirely believe him, but she wasn't going to say anything until they were alone later on.

Shaking his head a little to shoo away the rest of his thoughts, he turned to the right and gestured. "It's not too far from here, maybe five minutes at most."

They started moving again, the silence eventually being broken by Steve, whose curiosity and wariness were finally coming forward. "How are you up and moving so soon after what you went through?"

Alfred shrugged with a smile. "It looked worse than it was; I mean, it wasn't designed for me, so it wasn't gonna have the same effect."

The soldier raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "You coughed up blood; I think it was about as bad as it looked."

The Nation paused and shrugged, reminding him of the device on his arm. Ah, he had an out! Though he wondered why he was still bothering with this charade and not just flat out telling the captain who he was. "Well, I also have this thing here; its experimental, boosts natural healing and monitors my overall health."

Well, it was mostly true, anyways. Other than it being experimental, really. And the healing boost, as that was all him.

...alright, so it was kinda sorta not true but that was a minor detail.

"SHIELD tech?"

Alfred shook his head. "Tony's work - my Tony, not yours."

Steve nodded, glancing back to the device for a second before returning to him. "The same one who got you here ahead of us?"

"The same." They turned a final corner, the hallway before them leading to a single, flickeringly lit doorway. "This is it; hopefully they decided to keep the stuff there instead of moving it elsewhere."

"Thank you, Agent." Steve nodded, a small smile on his face. "Now you make sure you get out of here in one piece, or else Fury'll have my hide."

"No worries, capt, you look after yourself instead." Alfred gave a salute as the captain moved forward, hauling the doorway open to reveal the elevator inside.

"Alfred…" Natasha stopped, looking back to him with the slightest hint of a worried expression marring her professional face.

"Stay safe, Nat. And keep the captain alive; he's good for morale."

She cracked a smile, making Alfred feel better as well. "That much I think I can manage, even with his own heroic tendencies."

"What can I say? It's an American thing."

Natasha snorted in amusement. "You're telling me. But you should be going."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going." Alfred waved her off, smiling as he turned to make his way back out of the maze (and hopefully find the other three to help them out a little as well). Behind him he heard the two step into the old elevator, the rusty clanking of the door as it shuddered shut just reaching its loudest when he turned the corner and almost ran headfirst into a pair of patrolling soldiers.

"Shit!" Alfred swore, blocking one grapple and wondering how he'd missed them approaching, only to realize he couldn't sense a thing from them despite their uniforms being of his own forces. ' _That means everyone's walked right into a trap-'_

His world went fuzzy, and Alfred dropped to his knees while his mind took a minute to realize a third had snuck up on him. He tried pushing back up from his knees, but the gun(?) was brought into his head and everything went black.

~0~0~

It took Clint about ten seconds to realize the chair hadn't moved at all, even though light was obviously filtering into the dark, dusty room. Where was the snarky comment about SHIELD? Where was the gloating success of the revival of this lost program?

He walked around the desk, already having a feeling he knew what he was gonna see.

A dull white grin greeted him. In fact, everything about the man seemed rather whitish.

General Ross, Clint was rather certain now, was not the one leading this operation anymore. If he ever had been.

The door leading out to the hall smashed open, and suddenly there were more pressing things to worry about than an old skeleton.

~0~0~

Alfred jolted back into alertness as quickly as he left it, eyes immediately taking in the surrounding room before his mind could even process it. The first thing he noticed was that he was on his knees, and that Steve and Natasha were tied up to the side. Several soldiers stood guard around him and the other two, and in front of him…

The Nation swallowed, gaze sliding up to a very unfriendly smile. "Richard..."

The former Confederacy just smiled a bit wider. "Hello, brother. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah the last part was sorta weird I guess but I wanted to have that moment of 'oh shit what?' And so I had it. If you're still a bit confused I'll be getting just a bit more into things either next chapter or the chapter after that. Trust me, I have a good reason for choosing my main villain as I did, and he won't be 'omg evuls for lawls!' I'm sorry for the short chapter, but I really wasn't expecting it to be this length whoops.
> 
> I'm guessing a good fraction of you guessed right on who was gonna show up, but not what I did to the General, so I can rest easy knowing I pulled one good plot twist over all of you. I hope the ending serves just as well of a surprise to you all, as well as the action scenes incoming.


	15. But It Was Just a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers might not be sure what's going on, but this stranger seems a lot like all the other bullies he's fought before, and right now that's enough direction for him.

Steve's chest ached as he drew in another breath, doing his best to keep it slow and even as he came back to full awareness. He recognized instantly he was bound tightly, a warm body pressed to his back telling him Natasha was there as well.

Memories came back - of the shaky ride down the old elevator, only for it to shudder to a halt and go dark just as it'd opened. He hadn't been able to duck in time to avoid the donkey punch to his head, which had quickly taken him out despite his attempt to stay conscious. He only hoped they'd been slightly gentler with Natasha, because as good a fighter as she was, she didn't have the same resilience that the serum granted him.

A crack of an eye told him there was at least one guard with them, possibly two if he had to guess, though the other was obviously out of sight behind him. Looking to his side told him that there were other guards around the room, with a different figure waiting patiently in the center.

That was not General West. At least, that was what he could gather in the few seconds before the elevator shuddered open again, three sets of feet coming into his line of sight before throwing - Alfred! - forward to kneel before the other figure. Something in his gut roiled at how fundamentally wrong the sight was, even as the stranger stepped forward to stand over his new captive.

For just a second Alfred's gaze came his way, only for it to be snatched back by the man as the kid looked up to him, his entire body tensing in recognition as he whispered a name that held no meaning to the supersoldier.

Then the other man spoke. And Steve knew that voice, he  _knew it_ , but from where he couldn't say. It was a slow drawl, one from the southern regions of the country, tinted so lightly with venom you wouldn't recognize it until it was too late. Alfred seemed to recognize that as well, his mouth twisting into a frown.

"How are you here? I saw your body."

Richard laughed. "Like that matters for us. You can thank the late General for my return, though; he was so pleased that his pet project was working he didn't even see his own men turning on him until it was too late."

Steve resisted the urge to swallow. General West may have been a bit on the fanatical side, but that didn't mean he deserved such a fate, especially at the hands of someone who was already reminding him a lot of HYDRA.

"You bastard," Alfred swore, teeth grit. "He was a good man."

"He was," The other man agreed. "He was just unfortunately too loyal to you to be swayed, so I had to deal with him before he could tip anyone off. Fortunately the rest of them are much more willing to listen to their true leader."

"But the soldier-"

"Completed his mission successfully, seeing as you came right to my doorstep without giving away a thing. You really need to stop being so naive, Alfred. A shame you brought pets, but they're nothing that can't be handled."

Steve felt the slight movement behind him as Natasha came to, her breathing kept even more even than his own. Slowly, to not draw attention, he tapped her back in a bastardized form of sign language to ask for positions on the soldiers he couldn't see.

Alfred straightened up, though he was still on his knees as the soldier kept him from rising. "Don't you dare say that like you know a fucking thing about what I've gone through since then."

"I know enough," Richard replied, walking around to stand behind Alfred. "I know about the Depression, the World Wars, the Cold War. I know all about your work in the Middle-East, in Europe, in Asia. You did a particularly nice number in Vietnam, didn't you?"

What were they talking about? They acted like history was some sort of personal experience when neither could have been alive at those points -

_Like you?_

Steve paused, almost missing the returning taps from Natasha as she gave him the 'get-ready' signal. Pushing the thought out of mind for the moment, he directed his attention to the soldier before him, who was just within reach of his legs…

"Says the guy who wanted to base an economy off of slave labor, which was already falling apart despite your best efforts."

"You forced my hand!" Richard snapped, having circled back around front in the interim. "You deliberately ignored the laws putting my men in the right to ask for their return."

"They were human beings who'd done nothing wrong beside search for their own freedom."

Richard laughed, a bitter tone present. "I'm fairly certain when I told you that about my men you spat in my face,  _Yankee_."

Alfred snapped back with a venom Steve hadn't thought possible from the bubbly young agent. "That's because you tried to destroy the union,  _traitor_."

"And look at where your union's gotten you, hmm?" Richard leaned forward, matching glare to glare. "Now you're no better than the regimes you claim to stand against,  _Kirkland_ -"

Everyone in the room seemed equally startled when Alfred nailed the other man in the head with his fist, sending Richard reeling as the soldiers stepped forward to defend their leader. Steve didn't need a signal to snap his legs forward, pulling the guy towards him and sending him to the ground and Natasha did the same to the man on her side.

"Stop them!"

Steve stood and spun in one fluid motion, allowing the spy to to kick the soldiers standing up again as he spotted his shield in the corner of the room. "Nat!"

"Saw it already." With that she wriggled out of the fraying ropes, her work at loosening them allowing the two to break free as more soldiers approached. While she worked on slipping past the soldiers and getting them to hit each other, Steve started right in on making himself the target of their attention.

He spared one last glance to Alfred, who at that moment had glanced to him and nodded grimly, before both of them were too immersed in their fights to allow for any sort of distractions. Which was helpful as his shield came flying to him just after he'd looked away again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited the last chapter just a little bit at the end, because when reviews started coming in commenting over how it was Matthew I wanted to hit my head because a) I'd been hinting involvement of Confederacy from the beginning and echoing Steve's dream with the 'hello, brother' thing, and b) I'd already made it clear several times that no other canon Nations were getting involved in the story. Do people even bother reading my author's notes?
> 
> Sorry for the delay, by the way, I had to take a break due to burning out for a bit, as well as needing to sit down and decide exactly how I wanted to write these last - seven chapters? I think it's seven, but I might be off by one or two depending on how the story runs. But we're on the final stretch and I'm hoping you'll all enjoy the ride!


	16. Hotshots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why you should think before doing something stupid, like pissing off Dr. Banner.

Tony's head had barely snapped up from their furious brainstorming, warning on his lips, before the door smashed open and the first soldiers started rushing in. Bruce's blood pumped, the Other Guy stirring in the back of his mind and already raring to go.

He slammed down on that urge, stepping back while the first shots from both Tony and Barton whizzed past his head. He had not signed up to fight, and he wasn't entirely certain that if he released the Hulk here that his friends wouldn't be injured in the process.

' _Not to mention,'_  he thought bitterly, glancing up. ' _We're under a mountain. I don't think anyone other than the Other Guy would survive if it caved on us.'_

A hand rested on the vials on his waist. He wasn't the most agile of people, but there was no reason to believe he couldn't try his hand at ducking in long enough to give the fallen soldiers the injections that would hopefully cure them and get rid of whatever side effects were affecting their judgement.

...If it was a side effect and not just their loyalty to the General.

"Hey, Bruce, planning on helping out?" Tony asked, hitting another soldier and making them stumble back, though they were still standing. "We could really use the Big Guy about now."

"If he comes out he'll bring the mountain down on us," Bruce replied, dodging thrown lab supplies.

"This place was built to survive a nuke hitting it; it'll be fine!"

"I still don't-" He ducked down again, though he noted one of the soldiers was coming straight for him. "Take the vials, then!"

Tony lifted a hand, waiting for Bruce to unclip his belt and toss it as carefully as he could-

Only for it to be intercepted and dropped to the floor by another soldier, her boot crushing the contents without ceremony as she stared straight at him.

There was a pause, Bruce looking from their hope of ending this mess cleanly, up to the woman who was looking entirely unapologetic as she stepped forward to grab at him. His gaze narrowed, her only warning before the room suddenly got smaller, a new player entering the fray.

~0~0~

"Whelp, we're fucked," Tony commented aptly as he jumped back to dodge the mean green fighting machine suddenly taking up the lab and ripping it to pieces.

Beside him, Clint snorted, firing another shot underneath the Hulk's arms to nail a soldier in the leg, scowling more when the soldier promptly ripped the offending object out and threw it to the side. "Should have been paying attention to your surroundings."

"Says the guy who didn't see them coming before they barged in."

"I was busy confirming that the body in the backroom is the late general; you were the ones wasting time talking about alien love children."

"Wait," Tony turned to him, glad his mask was hiding his shock. "You're telling me the General isn't in charge of this?"

"Probably never was."

"Well, shit."

Clint nodded, taking another shot at a soldier who had gotten around the tables being thrown at them and coming for them. Tony sent a dual blast of his own at the soldier, finally taking them out for the moment.

One down, probably a dozen to go. Fun.

"Sir, behind you-"

Tony was thankful for the protection of his suit, because otherwise the arm around his throat would have probably popped his head off before he was able to knock them into dreamland with a point-blank shot to the skull.

"Yeah," Tony rolled his neck as much as he could in the suit. "Pepper's gonna kill me when I get out of here."

Both Clint and Tony ducked as a soldier was thrown over their head, crashing into the wall right behind them and leaving an impression as they fell to the floor.

"If we don't get killed here first," Clint responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, what sort of 'deleted scenes' are you all interested in seeing? No promises I'll get to them right away, but I was planning on them at some point, so I'd like to know specifically what you all want to see. I can't promise I'll write all of your requests, though, so don't count on it if it doesn't fit the universe.
> 
> Also I should mention this is the last scene with this intrepid trio for a while, so wave buhbye for several chapters. Buhbye! Don't get in trouble while we focus on the others! (Oh who am I kidding they're already in trouble…)


	17. What Once Was

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Richard have a chat while they fight.

Richard had waved away the soldiers coming to help them, directing them instead to fighting the duo who were holding up surprisingly well despite being knocked out cold not too long ago. Alfred couldn't help but grin at that - his heroes were always ones to beat the odds no matter what.

He barely noticed the fist coming for him in time, bringing up a hand to block it and wishing he were back at full strength, but thankful that his former brother wasn't at his peak either. "I think you should be focusing on your own battle, Yankee."

"If you insist-" Alfred shot back, pulling Richard close to try and get in a good blow, but the Confederacy twisted out of his grip and away, the two again coming to a brief pause as they tried to predict each other's next move. "How are you alive, anyways? I'm pretty damn sure none of my states seceded again."

Richard snorted, moving clockwise and prompting Alfred to do the same. "I never died, you idiot. You were the one who never accepted your own goddamn people back."

"They were never yours to begin with! I shouldn't have had to take them back in the first place."

Alfred stepped forward and mimed a punch only to flow into a kick, which Richard caught and blocked before attempting a backhand that ended up caught. They broke apart, the Confederacy quickly coming in again and starting a fast kick-kick-block-punch cycle back and forth between the two, effortlessly ignoring and dodging the others in the room who came close either purposefully or on accident.

Another halt in their fighting came, both breathing only slightly more heavily than before. As Nations, they could fight for days on end without rest if it came down to it, though it only happened in the rarest of cases. Generally they retired with their soldiers, allowing themselves to regroup and plan for the next battle.

(Of course, there was the World Wars to consider, but those were a fair degree above normal warfare by any definition.)

"You made them mine when you rejected them!"

Alfred flinched, grinding his teeth. "I didn't mean it, and you damn well know that!"

Richard scoffed. "Apparently you did, or I wouldn't have been born. You know damn well why you threw me away-"

"I was a kid!" Alfred snapped.

"You're a Nation, and that has consequences!" Richard snapped back. "That means that even if you're in pain you suck it up and take it instead of whining over how hard it is for you!"

"Don't tell me shit I know now!"

Conversation paused as they struck at each other again, this time Richard managing a solid blow to Alfred's stomach before being knocked back by a glancing blow to his head. Both stumbled away briefly, Alfred sucking in breaths while Richard shook his head to clear it before their gazes locked again.

"That still doesn't- explain how you're alive, though." Alfred commented idly, straightening up.

"I was stuck in limbo after I was put to death; couldn't die, and couldn't revive. Do you remember that execution?" Richard laughed bitterly. "No, of course you don't, you couldn't even face me after everything you did."

"I was half-dead in bed thanks to the wound I got at Palmito, what did you expect?"

The Confederacy shook his head. "You still could have done what you were supposed to, yankee, instead of letting humans kill a Nation. Or try to, anyways."

Alfred pressed his lips together, but said nothing. Richard's lips twitched up in amusement as he straightened to face his once-brother.

"Of course, that makes it so much more ironic that it was a human of all things to bring me back. The poor fool thought he had the supersolider formula, and all he had was the last ingredient to survive the cover-up." He made a gesture to his arm, miming the drawing of blood.

"My blood…" Alfred's eyes widened in horror as he actually looked at Richard, noticing all the slight physical differences from what he remembered from a hundred fifty years ago. "He didn't-"

"He did." Richard laughed. "Corporal James Nelson, once a loyal soldier to the General, made anew after just one injection. Though I suppose I could have gotten worse."

"Did he-" Alfred swallowed. "Did he suffer?"

Richard's eyes softened briefly. "It was like going to sleep. Didn't realize a thing."

"...thanks for that."

The Confederacy nodded, a brief moment of calm between them, reminding Alfred why he could never fully hate the man before him-

And why Richard could never fully hate him.

(Two countries born of the same people and ideals, just two irreconcilable ways of going about it-)

The moment passed, the two hardening again as they came to blows, fervor renewed. This time, though, their commentary continued as their breath allowed them, short bursts and interruptions common.

"Not as tough as I recall."

"Well you aren't either."

"I was dead for a hundred fifty years."

"Nearly dead."

"Same difference. What's your excuse?"

"None of your business."

Richard stumbled back, head ducked slightly, though the faintest smile was on his lips as his hands moved down to his side. "So he was successful in his other mission, then."

Alfred moved to catch the hidden weapon Richard pulled on him. only to gasp and reactively crush the syringe as it embedded in his skin. He stumbled back, already wavering as the formula ate away at his essence.

With a smirk Richard stepped forward, knocking Alfred over easily and pressing one foot into his chest.

"I almost feel bad for all this, but like you said, there's no way secession is possible in this day and age. However, I can promise I'll take better care of your people than you've managed so far."

"Fuck you-" Alfred coughed, more focused on fighting the sudden fade of his connection as the other tried to claim it from him. He had won two world wars and a stare down with an entire Soviet Union, he wasn't going to lose to this-

Richard never saw the shield that nailed him from behind, sending him reeling and giving Alfred a chance to gain ground, praying it'd be enough.

'Sorry for not being able to help you more, capt… Nat...'

His eyes shut, breathing becoming more ragged. Now was not the time for his healing to fail him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still seem to be on track with stuff, though I can only hope everyone will be pleased with the finale and credits and whatnot. When I started writing this nearly a year ago, I wasn't expecting it to take this long to complete, nor did I expect to literally have to scrap and scrape together a new plot or pieces of plot several times. I think it's all turned out for the better, though.
> 
> Also I got that review asking about my headcanon for Richard's survival just as I started writing this, which amused me a lot. Hopefully this satisfies, dear! (Also, I leave Richard vague in terms of description so you can all imagine how he looks for yourself. I personally imagine he looks similar to Al, only with darker hair and eyes.)


	18. Ask Not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha finally has a chance to use her specialties against her opponent, and the results are well worth it.

For the first time in quite a while, Natasha lost her cool. It was only for a split second, and no one had seen her expression slip into sheer horror as Alfred collapsed backwards, but as soon as her senses registered someone moving next to her she snapped back into combat mode long enough to take out the last of the soldiers before turning sharply to Steve.

"Steve, Alfred-"

"On it." He twisted, throwing the shield with military precision, nailing the guy (- Richard? Who was he to Alfred? She'd get it out of him later after they got out of this mess alive -) and sending him reeling.

But Alfred - America,  _home_  - was still lying on the ground looking much much too pale for her liking.

Richard sneered, looking at them and the men and women littered around the room. "I guess he picked his pet projects well after all. Though really, a Russian spy and a wannabe hero of all things…"

She pressed her lips together, stepping forward before she heard the gasp beside her, Steve suddenly on his knees as he clutched at his throat, wide eyed. Richard chuckled, seeming much too amused at the situation.

"I can't imagine you're feeling too great right now, Captain Rogers. Then again, I can't imagine the sudden breakdown of the serum in your veins would be pleasant even in the best of conditions."

Natasha quickly pieced together what she could, not liking the picture. "Alfred's dying."

"Right in one, ma'am," He nodded to her, looking unphased as he shrugged. "He's a stubborn bastard as always, but eventually his own serum will eat through his system and kill him. Only a pity there wasn't a cleaner way, but I make do with what I have."

He seemed uninterested in fighting her, but he was carefully standing between them and the fallen Nation so that she couldn't get past him without getting into range, and considering he'd stood up to Alfred of all people…

( _Oh god why this wasn't right he shouldn't have been here the absolute idiot-_ )

Her head throbbed, reminding her of what a bastardized formula was capable of, shaking it away to focus on more important things. Thankfully it seemed Steve was regaining his feet, though he didn't look much better than Alfred at the moment. Hopefully he would catch on to her plan without her having to explain, but it was a tossup at this point.

Very carefully making certain she didn't look down to where her belt of vials were, she spoke again, keeping eye contact the entire time, "You're hoping to replace him, aren't you?"

He pressed his lips together, and she knew he had him pinned. "More like reclaim what's mine, but I doubt a Ruskie would care about the details."

Natasha internally rolled her eyes - it was sad that in this day and age there were still people who held onto their Cold War grudges. She stepped slightly closer to Steve, glancing to his concentration-lined expression. "I think you'd be surprised."

Richard shook his head. "Trust me, you've never had a sibling like him-"

"You were there during the war," Steve replied suddenly, drawing both of their attention. "Gettysburg. A Confederate soldier."

While the man continued to look at Steve strangely, Natalia kept herself from paling as everything else finally came together. Southern accent, antagonistic relationship with the personification of America - of the once-Union -

 _Confederacy._  Wasn't that a fucking mindtwist for the books. But he wasn't the only one to know Civil War, and she could use this to her advantage.

"The Civil War? Is that all?" She put on her best unimpressed expression. "I know you Americans go on about how bad it was, but really now, I believe other countries have had it just as bad, if not worse. Russia's Civil War put a government so terrible in place it killed more of its own people than enemy soldiers throughout its existence."

"I don't give a shit about Russia," He spat, turning a dark eye to her. "Just because you claim you aren't Communist anymore doesn't make you any better than you were before. I don't know what he ever saw in you with your history."

This was the delicate part, and was probably going to get her yelled at later. She stepped forward, continuing to dismiss him in her body language, which left him bristling. "He saw someone willing to change for the better, someone willing to fight for her new country just as much as her old one. America is a land of immigrants, after all; Irish, Russian, English…"

Her lips tilted up ever so slightly. "Kenyan, South African-"

Richard bristled like a wet cat, giving her such a pissed look it would have killed her if it could. Slipping forward in that instant was easy while he was pissed, slipping a vial out and sliding past him as she jabbed it into his side with a pleasurable vengeance.

She was too slow to miss him grabbing her and throwing her across the room, though, leaving her body shaking and shuddering as she slowly pushed herself up, Richard stalking over to her with the fury of a hurricane as the threw the half empty vial across the room along with the rest of the belt. 'Yeah, I'm getting yelled at later,' she thought with a wince, pulling herself up part of the way before he grabbed the front of her suit and shoved her back into the wall.

"You sorry bitch," He growled, all the dismissive attitudes of earlier gone. "You're going to wish you hadn't done that."

Natasha struggled weakly, forcing her panic down as she whispered to him, "I do not recognize you as my country."

His eyes widened, grip almost slackening enough for her to escape, and for a second he seemed to realize that she knew-

then Steve, who in the interim had worked up enough strength to cross the room after them, grabbed Richard's shoulder and spun him, clocking the once-Nation and sending him reeling. The supersoldier turned to her, helping her back up to her feet and exchanging weak smiles of thanks before their attention returned to their opponent, who did not look pleased at the interruption.

"I don't know who or what you are," Steve admitted, stepping forward with the same determination that can carried him through so much already. "But I've never been one to put up with bullies, and you're set to be one of the worst yet."

To her surprise, Richard laughed, though it sounded a bit strained. "Really now? And you think you're so much better wearing the colors and supporting such a corrupt country? What are you really fighting for, Rogers?"

"I don't fight for America as it is now," Steve admitted, the Confederacy's gaze sliding back to him. "I fight for what it should be; a land of freedom and justice for all. I fight for people like Natasha and Alfred, even for Tony Stark. I fight because I wasn't made just to defeat America's enemies - I was made to be an inspiration to this Nation and serve as a role model. And I'm not perfect, but that doesn't stop me from trying.

Richard's expression was thoughtful, straightening out as he stared down Steve, who refused to back down from the silent challenge. With just a twitch of his lips, he muttered something she couldn't catch, but looked like 'Figures the idiot would pick one just like himself,' which almost made her grin as well.

"Well then, let's see how well you can stand for your country," Richard invited, an offer Steve accepted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will Alfred make it? Find out in the next exciting episode of- wait, this is a chapter story now updating daily, what am I talking about here. Or for those reading after I finish this story its literally just a button click away. Actually I feel its pretty damn obvious anyway but you all can sweat for a while.
> 
> Also I wonder how many of you recalled that Steve's serum was based on Alfred's blood - I mean I'd basically laid it out for you all, but considering some people missed the whole 'Richard is the Confederacy' thing, I have to be sure. I guess it's just an issue of observation, but really now.
> 
> And tbh this was a lot less… actiony than I expected it to be. But with Nat in the spotlight things are really more focused on her own specialty, gathering information and using it against her opponents. She's not so much a fighter as a spy and assassin. Still, in lieu of a Black Widow movie, I think I gave her a good chance to play to her strengths against an opponent she couldn't beat normally.


	19. Recognition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally gets a few answers and once again defends his country.

Steve knew he was almost onto something when he'd blurted out after finally remembering where he'd seen Richard before. He'd only guessed at the place because he'd been there once before during a brief vacation, the preserved chunk of battlefield sticking in the back of his mind. Of course, he'd had doubts a half-remembered dream really meant anything, but he'd gotten such a baffled, surprised look from the man, it was hard not to show his own surprise.

And then Natalya had started in on the Civil War like it was some joke, baffling Steve further while telling him that she'd pieced together something he hadn't. She'd gotten under their opponent's skin, getting close and injecting him with the antiserum before being thrown across the room.

Steve grit his teeth, getting to his feet and feeling a new surge of strength fill him as he moved to drag Richard away from the Russian spy. Mind games were her thing, but it seemed it was time for a good old fashioned beatdown, and he was feeling rather motivated right now.

"Well then, let's see how well you can stand up for your country."

And if that wasn't an offer, then what was? Since Richard graciously gestured for him to have the first move, Steve took it, throwing a punch that was blocked easily, a kick returned to be turned away just as easily.

Despite the injection, it was easy to see the other was still closely matched to him right now, leaving him to wonder just how much serum he'd had to start with to be holding up so well. It was a lot like Alfred, really…

"We don't have to fight, you know," Richard remarked as they broke from their exchange of blocks and blows. "I want what you do; to make this country great again."

"I'm pretty sure Hitler used the same excuse, if you don't mind my saying."

Richard grimaced. "I am not interested in mass murder; I've seen enough blood to last any man a lifetime."

Steve threw a roundhouse kick, breathing a bit heavily as the man stumbled back. "If you were alive for the Civil War, I can believe that. Still, a guy with a personal army of supersoldiers isn't the type of person I'd want running things, even with good intentions."

"They're as loyal to their country as you are, Captain; you can't fault them that. And what makes you think I wouldn't be a good leader? My brother seemed to do well enough for a while."

The way Richard emphasized one word in there made Steve frown, pressing his lips together. "Then why go after him? Alfred's a good man."

Richard snorted. "You haven't seen him like I have; he's killed his own men in the name of duty, sent thousands more to their deaths. And it's not just a matter of wanting him dead - as things stand it'd be impossible for both of us to coexist without causing more trouble than it's worth, and I'm not interested in going back to that hell he left me in."

Alfred, a killer? It was impossible, but yet-

"Who are you?"

His opponent slowly grinned, straightening and throwing his arms out. "I am Richard Allen Jones, more accurately known as the United States of America."

Steve locked eyes with him as he finished, seeing the age and wear around his eyes and mouth, and knew, without a doubt, that he was lying.

"No, you're not," Steve replied slowly, feeling that same burn of anger that'd gotten him moving again in the first place and that'd struck him when he'd seen Alfred taken down. "You want to be, but you can't because you haven't been through everything the real America has. You plan on solving this country's problems by forcing people to listen to you, at the expense of everything this country stands for."

"Alfred," Steve continued, and now he could hear how easy it was to replace it with  _America_  without changing a thing. "embodies what this country can be far better than you or me or anyone else, because that is who he is. He is the country I swore to protect, not you, and I do not recognize you."

He knew he'd said the right then when Richard fumed, steam practically rolling off of him from his anger and embarrassment. The scathing reply clearly on the tip of his tongue died as a low laugh sounded behind him, both of them turning to see Alfred slowly pushing himself up with the help of- no, Steve would worry about the alien later, he was too busy smiling in relief at the proud smile directed at him.

"I couldn't have worded that better myself, Captain."

"Why aren't you dead?" Richard's fists clenched, shaking now.

Alfred laughed, patting his smaller friend's shoulder. "Mostly thanks to this guy being way too protective for his own good, actually. Guess his regen booster was enough to save my sorry ass after all."

The younger man -  _country_  - slowly got to his feet, the alien bitterly complaining to him all the while about the exertion. Richard did nothing, just watching with a look that might have been sorrow or anger or some other mix entirely at this point, waiting for their gazes to lock again.

"How is it that you always manage to beat me in the end?" The ex-country asked. "Every time, I have the better fighters, the better numbers, but somehow you turn things around and snatch victory where you shouldn't have."

"I'm just a lucky sonovabitch, probably," Alfred replied, shrugging. "Plus I know how to make friends, which let's be honest, you sucked at. A lot."

"The states always did think you were better with motivation…" Richard sighed. "There's no way I can win this, can I? Even if I could get to you in time, I imagine your friend there wouldn't let me do anything, not to mention these two heroic types."

"Damned good attempt though," Alfred agreed, stepping forward to rest a hand on his brother's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know I should have been there, but I was too scared to fess up to what I did, and that made you suffer a lot more than you should have."

"I saw you when you were carried away from the battlefield that day; I can't blame you for not wanting to come. I'm still angry, though," And here Richard lowered his head, shaking. Steve couldn't hear what he mumbled, but Alfred's face softened before he pulled his brother forward into a hug.

When they pulled apart, they both were grinning honestly. "You've changed, yankee."

"You have too, connie."

Richard shook his head. "The other soldiers will go back to normal once I'm dead, so you don't have to worry about them."

"Thanks, Richard. And for what it's worth, I forgive you."

Richard looked at his brother in surprise, finally settling into a calm resolve. "Good luck out there, not that you need it." He took a breath, closed his eyes, and muttered, "I resign."

"I accept your people back," Alfred replied, accepting the gun he was handed with the appropriate solemnity and bringing it up to the other's head. "and hope you find peace in the afterlife."

Click. Bang. And that was that.

Alfred looked down at his brother's body, the usual light in them gone even as Steve and Natalya approached him and joined the quiet moment. After a long minute he shook his head, smiling at the two of them.

"Thanks for everything you've done here guys… you shouldn't have had to deal with this, but you pulled through for me, and that means more than I can say." He looked around the room at the men only now beginning to stir, before looking back down to the body. "We should probably find the others and bring the bodies for a proper burial."

The alien chittered something to Alfred, who rapidly paled. "What do you mean Fury knows?"

Despite himself, Steve started laughing at the sheer absurdity of a country being afraid of Fury, Natasha joining him while Alfred switched between whining about how dead he was and how mean they were for laughing at his impending doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! Al we have are the final scenes which will pop up over the weekend, but the action scenes are pretty much over so that makes it a lot easier to clean up and get this behind me. Thanks to the person who reminded me Tony the alien would definitely be coming in to help his friend. Sadly it sorta cut out any possibly last battle scene, but I don't think Al was much up for it anyways.
> 
> Overall I apologize if Richard wasn't as fleshed out as a villain should be, but someday I might write a backstory for him and Alfred in their more appropriate time period. It'll go more in depth into Richard's 'birth', their relationship, and Richard's death. It probably won't be right away, because I'm still trying to get over my minor case of resentment for this thing.
> 
> I have to admit, Steve is not my best character in terms of writing. I really prefer Tony and Nat, and maybe after this I'll write more Avengers stories featuring one or both of them if I have the motivation. Maybe I'll even try writing a Black Widow-esque movie story thing if I have to. Wouldn't that be a sight?


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All stories end with a wedding or a funeral.

There were six caskets at the funeral the following week, all of them wearing the American flag in honor of their service. Alfred thought Richard would have been okay with that, even as the body he'd inhabited was lowered into a grave marked with a different name. General Ross, of course, had special honors for his service, but the other men and women had their remembrance as well.

The soldiers who'd survived the ordeal stood by, faces as calm as the surface of a deep-current river. He could feel their guilt as clearly as he felt his own, and resolved to take them all to the side at some point if he could to help him ease some of the guilt. It was ultimately his responsibility for the events that'd caused all of this, even if he could not be blamed for what his once-brother had chosen to do with his rebirth.

None of the other Nations had shown. He hadn't bothered to invite them, not even Mattie, because this wasn't just a farewell to a fellow Nation for him - Richard had been his brother, differently than his twin but equally important overall.

His gaze slid away from the casket to his left, where Betty Ross stood by her father's grave, shaking quietly. She was a strong person, but losing family was terrible under the best circumstances, and the fact that she hadn't even been allowed to see the body - well, it was no wonder she wasn't taking it well. Bruce seemed to realize this as well, since he slowly approached her and allowed her to grip his arm for support.

Alfred's mouth twitched up into a small smile. They'd be fine, probably, once they had a chance to talk. The scientist hadn't been expressly forbidden from telling her what had happened in that old base (now half-destroyed thanks to the efforts of the Hulk, with all traces of the supersoldier project thankfully burned and buried with it), but Fury had had that look which said he already knew it wouldn't be advisable, and that he knew Bruce knew it as well.

(He'd made sure of the burning himself, with help from Tony-the-alien. Two was enough for anyone.)

Speaking of Fury…

"You didn't expect me to sit back and do nothing, did you, Nick?"

The man continued to maintain his unimpressed look. "I expected you to know better than to try and get yourself killed. You're only lucky we managed to avoid the Council learning about another project of yours."

Alfred quirked a smile. "You make it sound like I saved your life for ulterior reasons, Director."

"Sometimes I wonder."

Ignoring the jab, Alfred turned to the people approaching, smile evening out. "Hey guys. Everyone holding up alright?"

"Eh, just a few bruises, nothing too big." Tony replied, waving it off. "Though Clint still owes me for saving his life."

"I thanked you, what more do you want from me?" The archer asked, exasperated.

"Well, you could have avoided selling me out to Pepper, for one. I haven't even seen my bed since I got home, and it's entirely your fault."

"Well, you didn't have to come on the mission, did you?"

"Hey, you'd be dead under a mountain of rubble if I hadn't decided to come along and help."

Natasha shook her head at the two, turned back to Alfred with a smile. "Should you be moving so soon after almost dying?"

Alfred shrugged. "Tony said it'd be fine if I stayed put mostly, but he's still watching me." He shrugged his arm a bit, showing off the armband that'd become a semipermanent part of his person.

"I see." She then smacked him across the face, startling him enough that he didn't realize he was gaping until Fury barely cracked a grin behind the others watching.

"Why'd you do that, Natty?"

She smacked him again. "That's for using that nickname. And the other was for deliberately going against orders trying to keep you safe so you could play hero."

"But I did help," Alfred pointed out, though he was more bemused than anything. "And it's not like I knew the spirit of my dead brother had come back from the dead just to kill me - that's not exactly one of those things that happens all that often."

"Spirit of your dead brother?" Tony asked, eyebrow raised. "What exactly did you guys get up to while we were busy bringing the mountain down?"

Steve coughed, and Alfred shook his head, smiling. "I probably should have told you sooner, but the Council was being all huffy and I didn't feel like dealing with their bitching, but at this point they can stuff it."

He extended his head, looking Tony clear in the eyes as he continued, "I'm Alfred F. Jones, known in some circles as the United States of America."

The genius took his hand, shaking it while maintaining that eye contact, and Alfred could see the click in his mind as the knowledge was allowed to truly sink in.

"So I'm guessing you aren't some Asgardian lovechild after all, then."

The Nation blinked. Then threw his head back and laughed. "God, could you imagine that though? But nah, I'm pretty human, aside from the whole not-human thing."

"I can tell."

"Wait, if you're America, then does that mean Nat…" Clint glanced to his friend.

"Yeah, she knew who I was for a long time. Actually worked for Russia personally for a while because she was good at not asking the wrong questions while spying on me. I caught her a few times, but she always managed to get away."

She just shrugged with a smile at the looks she got for it.

Steve shook his head, turning back to Alfred with a thoughtful look. "There's something I've been wondering about for a bit, actually."

"Shoot."

Steve's smile definitely did not twitch in amusement. "Why do you have a little grey man living with you?"

Tony turned on Alfred so fast Alfred thought he'd get whiplash, his eyebrows raised to comical heights. The Nation just grinned with a shrug. "What, you mean Tony? He's been living with me since the late 1800s. And yes, before you ask, Roswell was him deciding that flying under the influence of coffee is a really bad idea for him."

"That is a story I think you owe all of us."

Alfred just grinned. "I think I have more than a few stories I wouldn't mind sharing."

Really, for his heroes, it wasn't too hard to treat them to such. Not after what they'd all been through together. And as a bonus, he got to shove their passing grades in the Council's face without even needing to be biased in the least.

It was a good day to be America.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits will be out soon. I hope you all enjoyed this fic, as it was a bitch to write and most of the writing for it in the past year has been over the past month or so, so whoops. I have to admit I even surprised myself with some of the events, but my characters tend to have a will of their own sometimes and I can only concede to them in such cases.
> 
> I think I've cleaned up everything in the story, including the stuff with Bruce and Betty, the Avenger's curiosity, and Alfred's official and unofficial missions. Sadly, Thor was never able to show up in the main story, but there was no point where I felt I could fit him in cleanly without just messing up a lot of the scenarios. Sorry pal, I still think you're cool though!


	21. Credits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few tantalizing possibilities for the future...

Alexander Pierce looked out over the city as the sun set, not bothering to turn to look as someone approached. He had a lot to think about from the reports he'd received, and several plans that'd now have to change due to recent events.

A pity, but change was necessary for survival. Patience had always been the name of the game, especially in these last critical years before they could finally step forward and claim the world that was unknowingly waiting for their gracious command.

"Sir, the team sent to investigate the ruins is back."

"How much were they able to retrieve of the project?"

There was a beat of silence, than two, before the man continued. "Nothing, sir. What wasn't destroyed by rubble was apparently burnt to ashes."

Pierce's face betrayed nothing, his hands clenching behind him as he responded. "Report this to command."

The other hastily retreated, leaving him alone in his office. Closing his eyes, Pierce resisted the urge to swear, knowing that without the formula it would take ages to recreate it again, especially since he imagined several ingredients would be permanently out of reach. 'We have alternatives, there's no need to get upset over one setback.'

Damn America, though, for conveniently leaving that out of his report. If he weren't sure the brat had no clue about their plans, he'd expect a deliberate snub at him. And no doubt the rest of the Council would agree it was for the best if he were brought in to explain his reasoning, along with that sly questioning about why they cared so much.

No, it was better this way. Leave the project on standby for now - they'd have all the time they needed after their main project took to the skies, and there would be no squirming out of his secrets when his own people's lives were on the line.

Nations were tricky, yet extremely predictable creatures. Sort of like Fury, actually, considering the man had also 'conveniently' loss all the data about the serum he'd collected during the incident.

What to do about him?

The sun set calmly, not caring that one day it would rise over the greatest empire the world had ever known.

Pierce would make sure of it.

~0~0~

"Why are we here again?" Bruce asked, looking at the door with some trepidation.

"Al left an open invitation for us to visit whenever we were in the neighborhood," Tony replied, the gift basket with him even more obnoxiously large than the one he'd had with him the first time. "And I never had a chance to deliver his get well present last time."

"I'm sure that's your only concern," Bruce replied dryly, shaking his head as Tony pressed the doorbell. "And that your concern has nothing to do with either Alfred or that… alien friend of his."

"You know me too well."

The door opened, Alfred grinning like he'd been expecting them. Which, all things considered, he probably had been. "Hey guys, c'mon in, lunch is almost ready; hope you don't mind BLTs."

"Sounds good," Tony replied, entering the house like he owned it while Bruce followed behind with a shake of his head.

The house was… inviting. There wasn't a better way to really describe the sense of ease that seemed to permeate the atmosphere. Alfred probably made it that way on purpose, though whether it was the house itself or its owner that gave the sense was hard to determine. Neither had really expected a place owned by a pseudo-teen with a love for all things modern to have such an old-fashioned home, though.

The living room was no different, leaving the two feeling they'd stepped back in time with all the historical memorabilia on the shelves and mantle even as Alfred put the plates out with their respective sandwiches.

"So you knew we were coming, then?" Tony asked, taking a bite and enjoying it. Bruce had to admit, the food was good, though it was a bit disconcerting that they had obviously been prepared with guests in mind. Though who the fourth plate was for, he had no clue.

"Hey, being who I am gives me a few benefits." Alfred joked, tearing into his own meal with all the vigor of his apparent age. "Though it doesn't really work if people who aren't mine show up out of the blue. Other Nations, fine, my own people, easy, but other than that…" He shrugged.

"How do you guys exist, by the way?" Tony asked, leaning forward.

"Artie'd probably say something about magic," The young Nation shrugged. "I don't buy into it myself, but I do have a few theories- oh, hey Tony."

The two humans stopped and stared, watching the genuine little gray man approach the table and grab his own plate before turning to them, the red eyes fairly unsettling.

"Tony, be nice," Alfred warned, snapping the billionaire out of it for long enough to reply, "I wasn't doing anything!"

The Nation snerked. "Not you-Tony, him-Tony." He waved to the alien. "Bruce, Tony, meet my pal Tony. Tony, meet Tony Stark and Bruce Banner."

Tony-the-alien stared at them a bit longer, before muttering something and leaving the room, Alfred laughing a bit while he shook his head. "He's nice once you get to know him, promise."

"I'm sure he is," Bruce replied eventually, though seeing Tony's face was almost worth being dragged all the way out here already.

Maybe this whole impromptu vacation wasn't a bad idea after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, this is officially the end. It's been an adventure, and I'm glad everyone enjoyed it so much, especially where I couldn't. I guess it's just just a curse of writing, but at least I have one thing off my plate. Again, feel free to submit ideas for deleted scenes or things that should be expanded on, as I might actually get around to them someday.


End file.
